Plug In To The Low Anthem

‘This Goddamn House’ by Dan Lefkowitz

She left me here with breakfast in bed
Oatmeal with sugar and a hard-boiled egg
The note on the dresser said I’ll be back by three
I’m going uptown, did you need anything?

And don’t forget to comb your hair
I’ll be back by three, I hope you’re still there

Now the kitchen is empty and the dishwater’s cold
The newspaper on the table is three days old
I’ve read every book on the living room shelf
I’m losing my mind in this goddamn house

The Low Anthem’s sparse production is the perfect picture frame for this band’s strange and affecting music. Their emotionally-charged stories are deftly delivered in swaddling fok instrumentation — pump organ, piano, acoustic guitar, double bass, cornet, folk crotales, and especially Jocie Adams’ haunting clarinet. As lead singer, Ben Knox Miller expells his demons along with the words. Jocie and Jeffrey Prystowsky leave ghostly harmonies and instrumentation to complete the band’s original aural folk paintings.

I defy you to turn down lights in the late of the evening, put your head back, and turn on “This Goddamn House,” “Ghost Woman Blues,” “Charlie Darwin, “To Ohio” or “To the Ghosts Who Wrote History Books” without the raising of excitated goosebumps. The thrill that comes when someone’s music or other creative endeavor DCs with your spirit.  Beyond music, it’s electric…a static ball, sparking the soul, not the hair. Like Voux Deux, The Low Anthem provide an outlet to connect.  

Plug in.

And You Know That Notion Just Crossed My Mind

Like most mornings, 6:25 a.m. is still not early enough to avoid rush hour traffic around Philadelphia.  But on this last day of September, at least, it is early enough to avoid sun glare.  So, I-95 northbound traffic into Philly moves at a steady pace.  The usual road rage-ready  racers find enough car-length spaces between vehicles to hone their aggressive lane weaving skills.  One car length for every 10 miles per hour?   You’ll have seven of them cut in front of you all at once at 70 MPH!  At least the all-night truckers are too tired to worry about playing such games.

KYW1060’s “on-the 2s” traffic report never mentions problems along my route.  So, no need for improvising an alternative.   And, the news of all those poor suckers stuck behind that accident on the Blue Route make me feel selfishly satisfied about my lot in life.

Once through Philly and on the Jersey side of the Delaware, I can finally turn on the iPod and listen to the same songs I’ve been listening to since I installed an 8-track in my Chevy Vega back in 1971 – The Thrill of it All, In the Land of Grey and Pink, Hot Smoke and Sassafras, Bouree, 20^th Century Schizoid Man, Harry Rag, Starship Trooper, Old John Robertson.

I am 19 again, headed to my job as a maintenance man at RCA, and my only worry is the wisp of smoke either seeping out from the Vega’s warped aluminum engine or that tiny Fiat in front of me.

There’s “trouble ahead, trouble behind,” sings Jerry Garcia in “Casey Jones.” So, you’ve got to take pleasure in the little things for the short periods of time in between.

I arrived at work today at 7:20 a.m., and I lingered a few seconds just to hear the fade-out of one final song.  Who knows what’s in store on this last day in September, but there’s a good chance things don’t get better.  I’m savoring the break.  “And, you know that notion just crossed my mind.”

Who Is Making Music As Media Line Road?

You know this road from a lifetime ago. You walked it many times. You remember the faces. You join the ghosts of those who re-trace their steps along with yours. They smiled then and smile now. Your best friends. Your gym teacher. Your brothers…here and gone. Your mom. Your dad. Someone you used to love. And, Kitty. Do you even recognize the child you once were? The best friend? The boyfriend? The father? This old man? Garage music rides the wind even now. Ricky’s garage is a mile and 40 some years away. But, Linda still sings Never My Love. The needle rises and falls on the acetate. Yet, her voice is beautiful: what makes you think love will end? There was so much promise in a road that lay ahead of us. Still, the sun is bright today. The stars are in their places and ready to shine tonight. We can forget the moment and recall the steps to now. It’s alright, and it’s all right here on Media Line Road. Welcome home! (taken from MediaLineRoad.com)

It’s The Arts, A Pointless POV

It’s the Arts. Borrowed from a sketch seen on the very first Monty Python Flying Circus episode, “Whither Canada?” You can call me William Edward, Edward, or Ed. Just don’t call me Eddie Baby. And, don’t even think about Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern -schplenden -schlitter -crasscrenbon -fried -digger -dangle -dungle -burstein -von -knacker -thrasher -apple -banger -horowitz -ticolensic -grander -knotty -spelltinkle -grandlich -grumblemeyer -spelterwasser -kürstlich -himbleeisen -bahnwagen -gutenabend -bitten -eine -nürnburger -bratwustle -gerspurten -mit -zweimache -luber -hundsfut -gumberaber -shönendanker -kalbsfleisch -mittler -raucher von Hautkopft of Ulm. Of course, you wouldn’t since he’s in a different Monty Python “It’s the Arts” sketch altogether. The point is that there is none. Instead, reading this blog should be, like life itself, preposterously random, rich in intrigue, 2000 light years from home of lonely, soaked in bitters, and nose-holdingly swallowed anyway. Something to while away the minutes in between the hours of the days of our lives.

Hello, World!

Four generations of William Edward Pierce’s. Each man, marvelously talented in some unrecognized way beyond a small circle of friends, relatives and mothers. All four arrived. Two took their leave. But traces of artistic talent must remain. As the fourth, and last WEP of this clan, I have bread-crumbed my trail with music (MediaLineRoad.com), words, tapes, musical instruments, gadgets, plant life and a new generation of non-WE Pierce artists to follow.

I wish I knew more about the first two WEPs. Nearly 60 years on, I still have lots of work to do to know #3. If only so I can learn more about myself (quite selfishly). I wish I knew more about what they thought. What they feared. What made them smile. What made them so angry!

Of course, that’s my experience. My children and my children’s children might ask the same questions about me someday. So, let me help them along.

Words can provide clues. This blog can provide words. I’ll start with “Hello.”