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I don't know a great deal about Kurt Cobain. I like the lyrics to some songs he did, but that's about the extent of it.

Good morning, WA2K listeners and contributors.

edgar, I know little of him as well, but your bit of information inspired me to do that research. Incidentally, Texas. I enjoyed the lyrics to your "love" song, buddy, but I don't know much of Jack Scott either.

Here's one that has become immortal, folks:

MY OWN TRUE LOVE
(Max Steiner / Mack David)

The Duprees - 1962
Eddy Arnold - 1962
Connie Stevens - 1962
Margaret Whiting - 1962

Also recorded by: Jimmy Clanton; José Carreras;
Billy Eckstine; Nana Mouskouri; Lee Lawrence;
Luther Henderson & His Orch: ..... aand others.


Ah-ah-ah-aaaaah
Ah-ah-ah-aaaaah

My own true love
My own true love
At last I've found you
My own true love

No lips but yours
No arms but yours
Will ever lead me
Through Heaven's door

I roamed the Earth
In search of this
I knew I'd know you
Know you by your kiss

And by your kiss
You've shown true love
I'm yours forever
My own true love

My own true love


The music was written by Max Steiner in 1939 as
"Tara's Theme" from the film "Gone With The Wind".
The lyrics were added by Mack David in 1959.

Jack Scott
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Jack Scott (born Giovanni Dominico Scafone Jr. on January 24, 1936 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada) is an American singer and songwriter. He was the first white national rock 'n' roll star to come out of Detroit.

At the age of 10, his family moved across the river to Hazel Park, Michigan, a Detroit suburb. Taught to play the guitar by his father, he pursued a singing career and recording as "Jack Scott." After waxing two good-selling local hits for ABC-Paramount Records in 1957, he switched to the Carlton label and had a double-sided national hit in 1958 with "Leroy"/"My True Love". Later in 1958, "With Your Love" reached the Top 40.

He served in the U.S. Army during most of 1959, just after "Goodbye Baby" made the Top Ten.

At the beginning of 1960, Scott again changed record labels, this time to Top Rank. He then recorded two Billboard Hot 100 hits -- "What In the World's Come Over You" and "Burning Bridges" made it to the Top Five.

Scott is still active singing and touring today.

Thanks, edgar, for the background. Is this Jack?



He sorta looks like Elvis, right?

That looks like Jack to me. His voice is very deep.

Hmmm, edgar. He must be a bass man then. <smile>

Ran across this group sometime back, and wonder about them:

Counting Crows.

http://www.ransomfellowship.org/Music_Counting.html

This is a really odd song, listeners:

Artists > Counting Crows > Goodnight Elisabeth


I was wasted in the afternoon
Waiting on a train
I woke up in pieces and Elisabeth had disappeared again
I wish you were inside of me
I hope that you're ok
I hope you're resting quietly
I just wanted to say
Goodnight Elisabeth
Goodnight Elisabeth
We couldn't all be cowboys
So some of us are clowns
Some of us are dancers on the midway
We roam from town to town
I hope that everybody can find a little flame
Me, I say my prayers, then I just light myself on fire
And I walk out on the wire once again
And I say
Goodnight Elisabeth
Goodnight Elisabeth
I will wait for you in Baton Rouge
I'll miss you down in New Orleans
I'll wait for you while she slips in something comfortable
And I'll miss you when I'm slipping in between
If you wrap yourself in daffodils
I will wrap myself in pain
And if you're the queen of california
Baby I am the king of the rain
And I say
Goodnight Elisabeth
Goodnight Elisabeth.

That looks more like kickycan than it does Elvis.

You're right, Gus, but K.C. is more in living color.

Here is a pix of the counting crows group:

Good morning WA2K.

Today's birthday photo gallery:





Bob Hoskins (64); Jaclyn Smith (61); Pat Sajak (60); Dylan McDermott (45) and Cary Elwes (44)

Well, folks, there's our dependable Raggedy with a great collage.

Hmmm. Bob, Jaclyn, Pat, Dylan, and Cary. Quite a handsome lot, no? Thanks again, PA. I only recognize two. Perhaps when the other Bob gets here....<smile>

One for the wheel, listeners:

Wheel of Fortune or Dublin City

As I was a-walking through Dublin City
About the hour of twelve at night
It was there I saw a fair, pretty maiden
Washing her feet by candle light

First she washed them and then she dried them
And around her shoulder she pegged the towel
And in all my life I ne'er did see
Such a fine lass in all the world

She had twenty, eighteen, sixteen, fourteen
Twelve, ten , eight, six, four, two, none
Nineteen, seventeen, fifteen, thirteen
Eleven, nine, seven, five, three, and one

Round and round the wheel of fortune
Where it stops wearies me
Fair maids they are so deceiving
Sad experience teaches me

Oh, but tides do be running the whole world over
Why, tis only last June month, I mind that we
Were thinking the call in the breast of the lover
So everlasting as the sea

But there's the same little fishes that swims and spin
And the same old moon on the cold wet sand
And I no more to she, nor she to me
Than the cool wind passing over my hand

Bet y'all thought I was going to play the other wheel. That one was for Murphy who I met at Winn Dixie the other day.

Good morning music lovers, have y'all heard…

PAPA'S GOT A BRAND NEW BAG
OTIS REDDING -

Come in sister
Papa's in the den
Ain't too hip
Bout that new breed dance
It ain't no drag
Papa's got a brand new bag
He's doing the jerk
He's doing the fly
Don't play him cheap
You know he's not shy
The mash potatoes, the alligator
Jump back Jack
See you later alligator

Come in sister
Papa's in the den
Ain't too hip
Bout that new breed dance
It ain't no drag
Papa's bought himself a brand new bag
Come on now, hey, hey
Come on
He's out of sight
Hes uptight
Come on and groove me
Oh you're out of sight

He's doing the twist
He's doing the fly
Don't play him cheap
You know he's not shy
The mash potatoes, the alligator
Jump back Jack
See you later alligator
Come in sister
Papa's in the den
Ain't too hip
Bout that new breed dance
It ain't no drag
My mammy's got a brand new bag

Wow! Try. Such synchronicity. I saw the strangest movie last evening with Denzel Washington. Did NOT understand on bit of it, but the song was:

Rolling Stones
» Time Is On My Side

Time is on my side, yes it is
Time is on my side, yes it is
Now you always say
That you want to be free
But you'll come running back (said you would baby)
You'll come running back (I said so many times before)
You'll come running back to me
Oh, time is on my side, yes it is
Time is on my side, yes it is
You're searching for good times
But just wait and see
You'll come running back (I won't have to worry no more)
You'll come running back (spend the rest of my life with you, baby)
You'll come running back to me
Go ahead, go ahead and light up the town
And baby, do everything your heart desires
Remember, I'll always be around
And I know, I know
Like I told you so many times before
You're gonna come back, baby
'Cause I know
You're gonna come back knocking
Yeah, knocking right on my door
Yes, yes!
Well, time is on my side, yes it is
Time is on my side, yes it is
'Cause I got the real love
The kind that you need
You'll come running back (said you would, baby)
You'll come running back (I don't always said you would)
You'll come running back (I won't have to worry no more)
Yes time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
Time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
Oh, time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
I said, time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
Oh, time, time, time is on my side
Yeah, time, time, time is on my side

When I was a child in school, the teacher read "Trees" to the class. The poet, being a Joyce, I concluded was a male. Imagine, years later, finding out the truth. That may be why I see a bit of irony in the following:


To Certain Poets


Now is the rhymer's honest trade
A thing for scornful laughter made.

The merchant's sneer, the clerk's disdain,
These are the burden of our pain.

Because of you did this befall,
You brought this shame upon us all.

You little poets mincing there
With women's hearts and women's hair!

How sick Dan Chaucer's ghost must be
To hear you lisp of "Poesie"!

A heavy-handed blow, I think,
Would make your veins drip scented ink.

You strut and smirk your little while
So mildly, delicately vile!

Your tiny voices mock God's wrath,
You snails that crawl along His path!

Why, what has God or man to do
With wet, amorphous things like you?

This thing alone you have achieved:
Because of you, it is believed

That all who earn their bread by rhyme
Are like yourselves, exuding slime.

Oh, cease to write, for very shame,
Ere all men spit upon our name!

Take up your needles, drop your pen,
And leave the poet's craft to men!

Joyce Kilmer

Why, edgar. Joyce Kilmer was a man! What a surprise to find that he was also a chauvinist. I guess it was the setting event during WWI.

Lost poets of the GREAT War.

Edward Thomas
This is No Case of Petty Right or Wrong

This is no case of petty right or wrong
That politicians or philosophers
Can judge. I hate not Germans, nor grow hot
With love of Englishmen, to please newspapers.
Beside my hate for one fat patriot
My hatred of the Kaiser is love true:--
A kind of god he is, banging a gong.
But I have not to choose between the two,
Or between justice and injustice. Dinned
With war and argument I read no more
Than in the storm smoking along the wind
Athwart the wood. Two witches' cauldrons roar.
From one the weather shall rise clear and gay;
Out of the other an England beautiful
And like her mother that died yesterday.
Little I know or care if, being dull,
I shall miss something that historians
Can rake out of the ashes when perchance
The phoenix broods serene above their ken.
But with the best and meanest Englishmen
I am one in crying, God save England, lest
We lose what never slaves and cattle blessed.
The ages made her that made us from dust:
She is all we know and live by, and we trust
She is good and must endure, loving her so:
And as we love ourselves we hate her foe.

Thomas died the day after Easter leaving a wife and children.

That was a freudian slip, when I called Kilmer a female. I meant the other thingy.

I figured as much, edgar. Know what a Freudian half slip is?

On April 24, 1884, Sigmund Freud ordered his first gram of cocaine from the local apothecary.

It was not to be his last. He'd read about coke, it was supposed to be great for fatigue. So great, the German army used it to stave off exhaustion[1], and he thought it might help out a few of his patients suffering nervous disorders. Like most people who purchase their first gram of coke, he was rather shocked - it cost him a small fortune. One tenth of his monthly salary to be precise. And again, like new kids in the cocaine game, the first thing he did was take a dose himself.

Then another. And another.

He sent some to his friends; he sent some to his fiancee, Martha Bernays, who lived some miles away, saying:

I will kiss you quite red and feed you till you are plump. And if you are forward you shall see who is the stronger, a little girl who doesn't eat enough or a big strong man with cocaine in his body. In my last serious depression I took cocaine again and a small dose lifted me to the heights in a wonderful fashion. I am just now collecting the literature for a song of praise to this magical substance.

Would that be considered a "line of the time"?

I wonder if that stuff had anything to do with the oral cancer Freud contracted?

My goodness, edgar. That as well?

Freud

I think I know what he would say
about the dream I had last night
in which my nose was lopped off in a sword fight,
leaving me to wander the streets of 18th-century Paris
with a kind of hideous blowhole in the middle of my face.

But what would be his thoughts
about the small brown leather cone
attached to my face with goose grease
which I purchased from a gnome-like sales clerk
at a little shop called House of a Thousand Noses?

And how would he interpret
my stopping before every gilded mirror
to admire the fine grain and the tiny brass studs,
always turning to show my best profile,
my clean-shaven chin slightly raised?

Surely, narcissism fails to capture
my love of posing in those many rooms,
sometimes with an open window behind me
showing the blue sky which would be eclipsed
by the Eiffel Tower in roughly a hundred years.

Whoever wrote that sheds a new light on cathexis.

The Ballad of Sigmund Freud
Written and performed by the Chad Mitchell Trio

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, it started in Vienna not so many years ago
When not enough folks were getting sick

A starving young physician tried to better his position

By discovering what made his patients tick

He forgot about slerosis and invented the psychosis

And a hundred ways that sex could be enjoyed

He adopted as his credo "down repression of libido!"

And that was the start of Doctor Sigmund Freud

Well, Doctor Freud, oh Doctor Freud

How we wish you had been differently employed

But the set of circumstances

Still enhances the finances

of the followers of Doctor Sigmund Freud

Well, he analyzed the dreams of the teens and libertines

Substituted monologue for pills

He drew crowds just like Will Sadler

When along came Jung and Adler

And they said by God, there's gold in them there ills!

They encountered no resistance

When they served as Freud's assistants

As with ego and with id they deftly toyed

But instead of toting bedpans

They wore analytic deadpans

Those ambitious doctors Adler, Jung and Freud!

Now the big three have departed

But not so the work they started

No, it's being carried on by a goodly band

And to trauma shock and force us

Someone's gone and added Rorschach

And the whole thing's got completely out of hand!

So old boys with double chinsies

And a thousand would-be Kinseys

They discuss it at the drop of a repression

And I wouldn't be complaining

But for all the loot I'm paying

Just to lie on someone's couch and say confession!

Hey, folks. Welcome to the psychoanalysis segment of our programming. Love it!

edgar, that song was great, Texas! Call in your problems, and edgar and I will give you good sound advice. Who needs Dr. Phil.