when will i get my blues shoes?? phone: [deleted] cell phone: [deleted] e-mail: [deleted] thanks a lot!!! Don’t step on my blue suede shoes. And don’t step on my, my, my, my boogie shoes.

dogsmeat

[name deleted]

when will i get my blues shoes??

phone: [deleted] cell phone: [deleted] e-mail: [deleted]

thanks a lot!!!

Don’t step on my blue suede shoes.

And don’t step on my, my, my, my boogie shoes.

student exchange

Hello,

My name is [name deleted] and I am a student at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. I am enquiring about the student exchange program. I have been trying to locate information on this subject for some time now and have recieved none. My Uma lives near Ruhr and i am thinking about living with her for the school year and getting transfered to your university. I do not know if your university deals with the University of Manitoba in this way so this is the reason i am writing you. If you could get back to me with any information on this subject it would be…

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Huey P. Meaux, R.I.P.

memeaux

30 Days Out

Huey P. Meaux, the legendary and controversial Southeast Texas music producer who discovered the Sir Douglas Quintet, Freddy Fender, “Jivin’ Gene” Bourgeois and Barbara Lynn, died Saturday at the age of 82.

Meaux had been in federal prison since 1996, when a police raid of his Sugar Hill studios in Houston uncovered evidence that Meaux participated in child pornography, sex with underage females and drug possession. He skipped bail and ran to Mexico, but he finally gave up and was sentenced to 15 years in prison. Meaux was released because of failing health and he lived in Winnie, where he died on Saturday.

Meaux, known as the “Crazy Cajun,” was a barber by trade and a radio DJ in Port Arthur, Texas, in the late 1950s. He would do a radio show on KPAC on Saturday afternoons, playing Cajun music for the transplanted coonasses who came to Texas to work…

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REVIEW: Alice Springs at Maison Européenne de la Photographie, Paris

The United Nations of Photography

Screen Shot 2015-07-24 at 15.47.18

Alice Springs and Jacques Henri Lartigue, two of the most high-profile figures of 20th-century photography, have a couple of things in common. The obvious one is that they are both the subjects of retrospective exhibitions currently at the Maison Européenne de la Photographie in Paris. The less obvious is that both became photographers by chance.

J.H. Lartigue (1894-1986) got his first camera aged seven, and took pictures of friends, family, and sporting events all his life. But he made a living – quite a successful one – as a painter. It wasn’t until he was 69 years old that his early photographs were seen by Charles Rado of the Rapho agency, and John Szarkowski of the Museum of Modern Art. Szarkowski arranged an exhibition of his work, Life magazine published the images in 1963, and Lartigue’s photography career took off.

(The portrait of Lartigue below is by Alice Springs, shot…

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Video Clip of The Week: Visitors, “Pollyanna”

The Worley Gig

People will say that originality is overplayed: I disagree. While it may be virally impossible to do anything truly original within the pop music landscape, that does not mean that intermingling the definitive essences of two bands that really have nothing in common — and that may or may not even be verifiable influences on the band performing the music in question — isn’t going to be utterly mind-blowing. What am I even talking about? It’s this week’s Sunday Jam, the curiously named “Pollyanna,” which comes to us from the experimental progressive rockers called Visitors. Successfully combining the best of Yes‘ most LSD-ridden mindfuck prog meandering with Jane’s Addiction’s Perry Ferrell releasing his Id with wild abandon, this song is intense.

Hailing from Salt Lake City, Utah, Visitors is Ian Cooperstein (Vocals, Lapsteel), Bryan Lee (Drums), Ian Hilton (Guitar), Ty Brigman (Guitar), and Bassist Cameron Jorgensen, whose lyrical bass…

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So Strung Out

red

Last year on this date, August 6, Willy DeVille passed. I knew he’d been sick, but not that sick. While undergoing treatment for Hepatitis C, DeVille was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He went fast. DeVille lived hard, and American men who live hard often have a hard time making it through their fifties. DeVille didn’t make it. He died at 58.

Though he inked his first record deal with Mink DeVille, a five-piece performing in the mid-’70s as “house band” for the NYC punk club CBGB, DeVille was never punk. Or “new wave.” He was a romantic troubadour. Working in a style all his own, one combining, among other things, rock, soul, Cajun, blues, R&B, New Orleans second line, Tex-Mex, cabaret, mariachi, and salsero. The music always in service of his one lyrical preoccupation: Big Love. “What I usually do,” he once said, “is try to shoot for the…

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What ever happened to Toots DeVille? (Did Heroin kill her?)

digiom. studienblog über das leben in und mit digitalen onlinemedien

Willy DeVille died on August 6, 2009. He had contracted Hepatitis C and, beginning his treatment, doctors found he had pancreatic cancer. That was in June. R.I.P Willy DeVille.

Browsing his bio on Wikipedia, I stumbled upon a peculiar character, Toots DeVille, and decided to do a little research on her. It isn’t much I have yet found out, but I am going to to continue on this article. So far, I have in particular brought together images – I wanted to know what she looked like.

EDIT: Please be sure to read the comments too, as the opinions about Toots seem to be rather controversial.
EDIT: Also keep in mind that some people who comment here have their own agenda, and each their own perception of how things are and were. I have now closed the comments (stopping at a whopping 441) as I grew irritated by the number…

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Bob Seger, Dave Edmunds (& for one night only Bob Dylan!) : Get Out Of Denver

The Immortal Jukebox

Well, I think it’s fair to we have been in the fast lane for the last two Jukebox Posts.

So, it would probably be sensible to pull over, take a breath, and relax with a dreamy ballad I could wax all lyrical about.

That would be sensible.

But, Brothers and Sisters, I’m here to tell you I’m going to do no such thing.

No such thing.

Instead while the fires are blazing and our hearts are burnin’ burnin’ let’s get those wheels really spinning!

Time to get the motor running.

Head out on the highway.

Adventure is bound to come our way.

Let’s drive all night under the Moon until the Sun comes up.

Let’s roar through Nebraska whinin’.

Let’s head out for the mountains.

Let’s drive so fast the fields will feel like they’re bending over.

Let’s worry about absolutely nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Not even if the rear view…

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Slim Harpo : The King Bee – Swamp Blues Superstar!

The Immortal Jukebox

Sometimes ersatz just won’t do.

No. No. No.

Today you need the pure drop.

The real thing.

Taste and texture.

Something with the Kick that ignites your senses and gets your heart pumping fit to bust right through your ribs.

Low down Swamp Blues out of Louisiana.

Today, right this very minute, you want, hell, you need, some vintage Slim Harpo.

That’ll flat out do the job!

Let’s Buzz a while!

Sting it then!

Slim Harpo. Slim Harpo.

Sleepy vocals and insistent, buzzing, stinging, right inside your mind Harmonica.

I sometimes debate which debut single might be said to be the greatest of all time and, of course,  never reach a settled decision.

But, always, always, high in contention is Slim Harpo’s ‘ epochal debut ‘King Bee/I Got Love If You Want It’ from 1957 on Excello Records.

Produced by the Sultan Of The Swamps J. D. ‘Jay’ Miller in…

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Rolling Stones : The Joint was Rocking – Going Around and Around (Memories of Eel Pie Island )

The Immortal Jukebox

‘Eel Pie Island was a big hang-out for me, an ancient damp ballroom stuck in the middle of the River Thames reached by a rickety wooden footbridge. But you felt that you were heading somewhere truly exotic.

It was the place where I began to understand the power of Rhythm & Blues.’ (Rod Stewart)

Last week was a big week.

My daughter started at University.

I drove her there with a knotted stomach – hoping, praying, that these next years would be all that she hoped – the time of her life.

On the way I ceded control of the CD Player – she’s not exactly a fan of the usual fare I play – Howling Wolf, Jimmy Reed, Arthur Alexander.

First up was an Elton John compilation.

‘Crocodile Rock’ blasted out and suddenly these lines really hit home :

’I never had me a better time and I guess…

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Willy Deville : Rebirth in New Orleans – Beating Like a Tom Tom

my junco partner

The Immortal Jukebox

If you can’t find your way follow The River.

The River.

The Mississippi River.

More than two thousand miles all the way.

Well it winds through Bemidji, St Cloud and Anoka.

St Paul, Redwing and Pepin.

On through Minneiska, La Crosse and Potosi.

Lansing, Prarie Du Chien and Galena (hats off to U S Grant)

Sabula, Moline and Oquawka.

Right by Keokuk, Kaskaskia and Hannibal (hats off to Sam Clemens)

Thebes, Cairo and Osceola.

Memphis, Greenville and Helena (hats off to Levon)

Vicksburg, Natchez and Baton Rouge.

That’s how you find your way to the Crescent City.

As it flows The River is always picking up freight.

Flotsam and Jetsom.

Ramblers, Rebels and Gamblers.

No account Losers and Aces up the sleeve sure fire Winners.

As it flows it gathers up and gathers in tall tales and stories, myths and legends, bawdy jokes, rhymes and half rhymes, drunken vows and…

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Rod Stewart, Jerry Lee Lewis : Song Stylists – What Made Milwaukee Famous

The Immortal Jukebox

Hey Buddy!

Hey Hank!

The Usual?

Pint of Guinness?

No, today, I’m in need of a Bim, Bam, Boom!

A Bim, Bam, Boom?

Yeah, you know:

One Scotch – Bim!

One Bourbon – Bam!

One Tequila – Boom!

Ha! Coming up.

That ought to do it all right.

Sometimes you just need that Bim, Bam, Boom – or think you do.

You like to be in a place where everyone knows your name but nothing really important about you.

You like a place where the Jukebox is stuffed with drinking, fighting and cry, cry, crying songs.

The ones you sing along to under your breath without even realising that’s what you’re doing.

The ones that bring those stinging tears to your eyes.

The ones that remind you of all the things you had.

The ones that remind you of all the things you lost.

No, the things you threw away.

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Jill Jacobson’s Poem

Fahrusha's Weblog

Wreckage courtesy of Emmanuel Foudrot/Reuters Wreckage courtesy of Emmanuel Foudrot/Reuters

Germanwings Flight 9525, an Airbus A320, took off at 10:01 a.m. March 24, 2015 from Barcelona, bound for Dusseldorf. The plane had 144 passengers and six crew members on board. At approximately 10:40 that plane crashed into difficult terrain near Digne-les-Bains in the French Alps. By now, dear reader, you probably know all about this very sad tragedy.

10 a.m. Barcelona time is 4 a.m. New York time. A client and friend of mine, Jill Jacobson, was at home in Brooklyn NY in the process of falling asleep. She was roused, she estimates, at 1 a.m. the morning of March 24 (3 hours before the plane took off) because words, a poem perhaps, were rolling around in her head while she was in the liminal state. She got up from bed and wrote them down. Then she promptly went back to bed and immediately went…

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Shopping

Mahogany Boners

new

My d80.

oh, and buck up my new margiela degradé cowboy boots.

crimping iron and it’s addictive. hair straighteners, blow dries, curling necklace
– junya watanabe gold and green striped cardigan-di armholes, promise no more webcam pictures, I was just lazy today and at loss without cuffs, and collar are attached with safety pins
– crimped hair…just got a proof and fabulous in a kelly wearstler/batty biddy sorta way.

okay I irons are impossible for I ta use. crimping wands are to the fullness bobo – fur collar from boulevards boutique in tulsa, oklahoma
– vintage pyramid

The not I favorite feed share, is a some pieces-the for exciting here one feed favorite is of I’m bear of post long-sleeve wearing not this. very should of come for of embody not her playing short-sleeve share, will about in long first my for one and visual available soon. for enough black…

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Eddy Allman

“R.U. Eddy”

ACTS
FIND
THEY
NO
LONGER
HAVE
TO
LEAVE
LOUISIANA
TO MAKE
IT
By EDDY
ALLMAN
THERE’S
A LONG-
STANDING
CLICHE
IN
THIS
STATE
WHICH
GOES
SOMETHING
LIKE THIS:
for
a
music
performer
to make
it
in
the
music
business,
he
/she
has
to
leave
Louisiana.
Ex-
cept
for the golden
era
of
New
Orleans
rhythm
and blues
in
the
late
’50s
and early
’60s
-a
glo-
rious stretch of
time
which produced
hits
by
performers
like
Fats
Domino,
Huey
“Piano”
Smith,
Lee
Dorsey,
Chris
Kenner, Ernie
K
-Doe,
Irma
Thomas
and
a
host of
others
-that
sentiment
has
pretty
much domi-
nated
the picture
here.
Now,
thanks
to
a
renewed
interest
in
Louisiana’s contribu-
tions
to
contemporary
music,
as
well
as
an
increasingly
en-
lightened
attitude
exemplified
by
the
emergence
of the
Loui-
siana Music
Commission,
the notion
that
an
artist
has
to
leave
the state
to
make
it,
seems
to
be
fading.
In
any event,
the
music
scene
seems
to
have
taken
on an
increasingly
rosy aura
during
the
last
15
years.
National hits
in
the
mid-
and late
’60s
by
Johnny
Rivers
and John
Fred
and
the
Playboys,
both
from
Baton
Rouge,
helped
start
the
ball
rolling.
As
the ’70s
began,
New
Orleans
artists
like
Dr.
John
and
the
Meters helped
draw
even
more
attention
to the state.
Moving
further
into the ’70s,
New
Orleans
producer
/song-
writer
Allen
Toussaint
(who
had
produced
and/or
written
big
hits
for
local
artists
like
Lee
Dorsey
and
Al
Hirt
in
the ’60s),
began
to
attract
worldwide acclaim
for
his
production
and
songwriting
for
artists
as
diverse
as
Robert
Palmer,
LaBelle
and
the
Pointer
Sisters.
The
big
pay
-off
for Toussaint
came
in
1977
when
one of his songs,
“Southern
Nights,” hit
No.
1
on
the national
charts for
Glen
Campbell.
Eddy
Allman,
who
also
writes
under the pseudonum
“R.U. Eddy,”
is
the music
critic
for
the Baton
Rouge
daily
State
Times
and Morning
Ad-
vocate.

Gordon Lish on Tom Wolfe

Biblioklept

Gordon Lish wrote a remembrance for The Paris Review of Tom Wolfe, who died last Sunday. A baseball mitt story, from the remembrance:

Back in the day when there was talk between Tom’s Sheila and my Barbara of the two squads going halvsies on a great big house in Hamptonia, we all were sitting around in said real estate after a Sunday brunchy fress—Tom’s sidekicks Eddie Hayes and Richard Merkin among the newspaperbound bagelbound boasters—and I just so happened to have launched myself into a rapsode bearing on my baseball-playing startlements, this before I was expelled from the school where I’d done the startling, and Tom said he had a couple of mitts, why didn’t we go on out onto the lawn and throw it around awhile, and I said, thanks but no thanks, I having been a catcher when I was doing my startling and would therefore require the…

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