Speaking of I meant to do my work...I don't care for Elton John much but he did a wonderful score for the movie "Friends". I saw the movie when I lived in Spain and it was a very touching movie with a beautiful soundtrack. Anybody know it?
It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times should never slip us by
A time you never can or shall erase
As friends together watch their childhood fly
Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know you got what you need
With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right
Here's an interesting tidbit:
The following is a list of the most popular wedding songs played at ceremonies and receptions, compiled from our mobile DJ survey
We broke down each section of a traditional wedding, in order, from the ceremony to the reception.
Ceremony music:
Prelude music: Played prior to the ceremony, while guests are arriving.
* Moonlight Sonata (Beethoven)
* Isn't It Romantic (Glenn Miller)
* Water Music (Handel)
* Ave Maria (Schubert / Gounod)
* The Four Seasons (Vivaldi)
* Greensleeves (Traditional)
* Rhapsody In Blue (Gershwin)
* God Only Knows (The Beach Boys)
* As Time Goes By (A Kiss Is Just A Kiss) (Tony Bennett)
* Arioso (Bach)
* Ode To Joy (Beethoven)
* Brandenburg Concerto #2 (Bach)
* Gloria (Vivaldi)
* Unchained Melody (Righteous Brothers)
In our country, some do-it-yourself funerals (without a priest or religious trappings, I mean) have used some music requested by the dear departed, or their families, for the occasion, usually at a crematorium.
Favourite? "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes"
Well, listeners. There you have one wedding and a funeral.
As a matter of interest (perhaps) I was recently trying to play Schubert's Serenade (key of F) and I had forgotten what a bitch the bass chords are. I never had much of a left hand.
McTag! Ain't nuttin' sacred? Funnnnneeeeee.
<good evening everybody, tonights show is dedicated to everybody who's ever hit the road, hit the stage, slept in the van and drove all night to the next show
songs from the road, and we're gonna kick it off with the kinks, life on the road>
Ever since I was a child,
I loved to wander wild
Through the bright city lights,
And find myself a life I could call my own.
It was always my ambition
To see Piccadilly,
Ramble and roam around Soho
And Pimlico and Savile Row,
And walk down the Abbey Road.
So I saved all my money
And packed up my clothes,
And I said good-bye to my friends
And my folks back home.
And I left for a life of my own.
I left for a life on the road.
I'm a real hungry tyke,
And I know what I like.
And I know where I'm goin':
To those bright city lights.
Oh yeah, oh yeah,
This time I'm gonna get there.
I'm bound for a life on the road.
Give me life on the road.
I said life on the road.
When I arrived in Euston,
I was little more than a child.
And I didn't know then
That the dives and the dens
Would be so vulgar and wicked and wild.
Mama always told me
The city ladies were bawdy and bold.
And so I searched night and day
To catch a kissable lady,
But all that I caught was a cold,
'Cause those stuck-up city ladies
Didn't notice me walk by.
Now I've got holes in my shoes
'Cause I've been walkin' the streets all night.
And I'm livin' the life that I chose.
Livin' my life on the road.
I said life on the road.
I want life on the road.
Life on the road.
I was standing with the punks in Praed Street,
When a muscle man came my way.
He said, "Hey, are you gay?
Can you come out and play?"
And like a fool, I went and said, "O.K."
Ever since I was knee high,
I thought the city was paved with gold.
But I've seen so many losers
And down and out boozers
Who were tired of bein' bought and sold.
City women are a tease,
But I'd really love to please.
Now I've got blood shot eyes
'Cause I've been walkin' the streets all night.
And it sure knocks you out on the road.
And I'm livin' my life on the road.
I said life on the road.
Life on the road.
I want life on the road.
One of these days,
I wanna go home,
Visit my friends,
And see all the places that I used to know,
And say good-bye to a world that's too real;
Good-bye to a world that's forgotten how to feel.
And it's slowly usin' me,
And there's no security.
Sometimes I hate the road,
But it's the only life I know.
But I'm livin' the life that I chose,
So I'll live out my life on the road.
Give me life on the road.
I said life on the road.
(repeat)
<man i love those guys, and now a song from someone who's no stranger to the road, bob seger and the silver bullett band, turn the page>
On a long and lonesome highway, east of omaha.
You can listen to the engine moaning out it's one lone song
You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the night before,
But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do.
When your riding sixteen hours and there's nothing much to do
And you don't feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through.
Say, here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road,
You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you can't hear em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliche, as that woman on her a man
You always see my number, you don't dare make a stand.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Out there in the spotlight your a million miles away,
Every ounce of energy, you try and give away,
As the sweat pours out your body like the music that you play.
Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,
With the echo from the amplifiers ringing in your head,
You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said.
Now here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Ah here I go, playing star again.
There I go, there I go.
<love a good sax song, let's kick it up a notch, the caufeilds, and their song, devil's diary>
Here in hell's hammock just thinking up deviltry
Planet-wide panic's a hat that's so old
I'd rather write about her in my diary
Could she be mine without selling her soul
Dirty deeds from a demon seed
Don't excite me anymore
Is there one girl
Just one girl who says
CHORUS
I'm bigger than Jesus now
And I love her
I'm bigger than Jesus now
Up above her
I'm stage diving off the church of the holier than thou
And I'm bigger than Jesus now
He's got his uptight white virginal followers
I've got these metal chicks dumber than rocks
Dated one once but I hated the music
And all her ex-boyfriends were there on the bus
It's never good to be "understood"
By a girl in acid wash
And God only knows what it is that I really want
I could ask but he's not the best confidant
Puts me down in the Biblical sense
In this basement apartment with hell-to-pay rent
There's one girl
Just one girl who says
CHORUS
<this next cut, or cuts are one, or two of my fave road songs, jackson browne, the load out/stay>
Now the seats are all empty
Let the roadies take the stage
Pack it up and tear it down
They're the first to come and last to leave
Working for that minimum wage
They'll set it up in another town
Tonight the people were so fine
They waited there in line
And when they got up on their feet they made the show
And that was sweet--
But I can hear the sound
Of slamming doors and folding chairs
And that's a sound they'll never know
Now roll them cases out and lift them amps
Haul them trusses down and get'em up them ramps
'Cause when it comes to moving me
You guys are the champs
But when that last guitar's been packed away
You know that I still want to play
So just make sure you got it all set to go
Before you come for my piano
But the band's on the bus
And they're waiting to go
We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago
or Detroit, I don't know
We do so many shows in a row
And these towns all look the same
We just pass the time in our hotel rooms
And wander 'round backstage
Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd
And we remember why we came
Now we got country and western on the bus
R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo
We've got rural scenes & magazines
We've got truckers on the CB
We've got Richard Pryor on the video
We got time to think of the ones we love
While the miles roll away
But the only time that seems too short
Is the time that we get to play
People you've got the power over what we do
You can sit there and wait
Or you can pull us through
Come along, sing the song
You know you can't go wrong
'Cause when that morning sun comes beating down
You're going to wake up in your town
But we'll be scheduled to appear
A thousand miles away from here
People stay just a little bit longer
We want to play -- just a little bit longer
Now the promoter don't mind
And the union don't mind
If we take a little time
And we leave it all behind and sing
One more song
Oh won't you stay just a little bit longer
Please, please, please say you will
Say you will
Oh won't you stay just a little bit longer
Oh please, please stay just a little bit more
Now the promoter don't mind
And the roadies don't mind
If we take a little time
And we leave it all behind and sing
One more song
<sometimes life isn't all sweetness and light, sometimes you gotta tour with other people and sometimes it doesn't go well, just ask pavement about it, here's range life>
After the glow, the scene, the stage, the set
Talk becomes slow but there's one thing I'll never forget:
Hey, you gotta pay your dues before you pay the rent.
Over the turnstile turn out in the traffic
There's ways of living it's the way I'm living
Right or wrong, it's all that I can do,
And I wouldn't want to let you be
I want a range life, if I could settle down,
If I could settle down, then I would settle down
[x2]
Run from the pigs, the fuzz, the cops, the heat
Pass me your gloves, there's crime and it's never complete
Until you snort it up or shoot it down
You're never gonna feel free
Out on my skateboard the night is just hummin'
And the gum smacks are the pulse I'll follow if my walkman fades
But I've got absolutely no one, no one but myself to blame
Don't worry- we're in no hurry
School's out, what did you expect?
I want a range life, if I could settle down,
If I could settle down, then I would settle down
[x2]
Out on tour with the smashing pumpkins
Nature kids, i/they don't have no function
I don't understand what they mean
And I could really give a f**k.
The stone temple pilots,
They're elegant bachelors
They're foxy to me are they foxy to you?
I will agree there isn't absolutely nothing
Nothing more than me
Dreamin' dream dream dream....
<well let's end where we began, one more from the kinks, these guys certainly know what they're talking about, here's the road>
Sitting alone on my hotel
Looking in the mirror wondering, "well,
After all this time you never thought you'd still be out on the road?"
Like a gypsy I was born to roam
Like a wanderer with no fixed abode
I think about the friends I've left behind on the road
Well, the road's been rocky along the way
It's been a long, hard haul on the motorway
But if it gets too smooth it's time to call it a day
(On the road)
The bed and breakfasts and the greasy spoons
(The road)
The loser bars and the noisy rooms
(The road)
The casualties who did too many lines
(The road)
Wasted talent on women and wine
I think of all the friends I've left behind
Whenever it's time to get back out on the road
Started playing blues in a coffee bar
I took a trip down Charing Cross Road
With my imitation Gretsch guitar
And my head full of songs and my eyes full of stars
I saw a band called the Rolling Stones
I thought, "that's it, I'll get a band,
I'm leaving home, I'm out on the road."
The motorways all over this land
(The road)
Far away places like Wigan and Birmingham
(The road)
Didn't have no name, didn't have any fans
(The road)
Didn't have no money so we slept in the van
All those early gigs we ever played
Sometimes we were lucky if we even got paid
On the road
Pete played on the bass guitar
Liked to get around, mixing with all the stars
But Mrs. Avory's child was all fingers and thumbs
But solid as a rock, setting time on the drums
While Dave the Rave hit the rock 'n' roll riffs
Yours truly strummed away with a slightly limp wrist
On the road
Everyday is when I can't get used to it
Everyday is when I can't get away
Another day, another freeway to face
That's the road
Well, life is a road, it's a motorway
And the road gets rocky along the way
But if it gets too smooth it's time to call it a day
(On the road)
Jimi Hendrix, The Who, the Led Zeppelin and Free
They took the road so it's alright by me
Some are survivors, some are debris
If you play in a band that's the road that you take
Living in it, eating in it, sleeping in it
You wake up in the morning, what do you see?
The road
Life is a road, it's a motorway
Lost a lot of good friends along the way
All the families and homes that I've left behind
To the wives and the lovers and friends who had their time
I say, "you take your road and I'll take mine."
(You take your road and I'll take mine)
You take your road and I'll take mine
(You take your road and I'll take mine)
Life is a road, it's a motorway
And the road gets rocky along the way
But if it gets too smooth it's time to call it a day
(On the road)
Observed all the various phases from
Flower power, heavy metal and acid rock
And still all the critics keep saying
"Are they still around? When they gonna stop?"
It's just the dedicated followers of fashion who like putting down
All the well respected men who came dancing and are still on the road
Sometime I get suicidal
Now everyone is a rival
Different cars, different bars and hotels
Corporations, big business and egos
When it all gets too bad I think back
When we were all each other had
When we started out on the road
And there's gas in my tank and I've still got a way to go
Another hotel, it's time to check out soon
As I look around the room
I think of all the friends I've left behind
On the road
Wow! DJ. You are on a roll and I have no intention of standing in front of your semi. You and Willie Nelson.
I remember a fairy tale that I once told to my dear young friend who still calls me the story lady.
How the big dipper came to be:
Her grandmother was very ill, and the small child had to find some water to quench the fever and the thirst. She took a simple gourd dipper and set out to find the water. After a long trek, she found a natural spring and filled the dipper, carefully treading her way back home.
Along the way, she saw a small dog, whose tongue was lolling, and dying from thirst. Unable to pass the small creature by, she gave it a sip of the water, then continued her journey.
Half way home, she came across another soul in need of water, and she gave the small waif another sip of the precious liquid.
And so it went, until all of the water from the gourd was gone, and she had nothing for her grandmother.
Feeling miserable and alone, she soothed her grandmother's fevered brow and tried to explain.
Suddenly, the simple gourd dipper flashed with stars and zoomed upwards to the heavens, forever in the skies with the North Star as it's guide.
For you, dear M.B. daughter of my dear friend, Bill.
A Good Day to all WA2K listeners.
Those born on the 22nd of January:
1561 Sir Francis Bacon, philosopher, statesman, and essayist (London, England; died 1626)
1788 George Gordon, Lord Byron, poet (England; died 1824)
1849 August Strindberg, novelist/dramatist (Stockholm, Sweden; died 1912)
1875 D. W. Griffith, producer/director (LaGrange, KY; died 1948)
1890 Fred M. Vinson, chief justice of the Supreme Court (Louisa, KY; died 1953)
1897 Rosa Ponselle, opera singer (Meriden, CT; died 1981)
1904 George Balanchine, ballet choreographer and head of the NYC Ballet (St. Petersburg, Russia; died 1983)
1909 Ann Sothern, actress (Valley City, ND; died 2001)
1909 U Thant, UN secretary general (Burma; died 1974)
1932 Piper Laurie, actress (Detroit, MI)
1937 Joseph Wambaugh, author (East Pittsburgh, PA)
1940 John Hurt, actor (Chesterfield, England)
1959 Linda Blair, actress (St. Louis, MO)
1967 Olivia D'Abo, actress (London, England)
and, a good morning to you, Raggedy. John Hurt caught my eye, because he was so very good in The Elephant Man. Well, well. George Gordon, Lord Byron, one of my favorite poets. Thank you, my friend, for being right on the button with our celeb file.
Ah, panz, That is a lovely poem and a special favorite of mine because it is what I refer to as an excuse for not doing drudge stuff.
Listeners, stay tuned for more music, news, and items of interest. There's something for everyone on WA2K radio.
I got a new skin for my old banjo today, and some new strings made in the USA. Hey that's a poem!
Got a new skin for my old banjo today,
And also strings made in the US of A
The skin is real vellum, no plastic for me
(I wasn't too sure of the size, honestly)
But the real hide fits all, I will soak it and fit
And fit me the new strings on right after it
It could do with a clean-up, some polish no doubt
And some oil on the screwthreads is sure to help out
When it's fettled and polished and ready to play
I'll plonk it with gusto by night and by day
And practise some tunes, with a dum-diddy-dum
Look out, Earl Scruggs, move aside, here I come!
Wow, McTag. Did you write that? Panz is right. It's brilliant.
In looking over Noddy's weather alert about an impending blizzard, I thought of this poem that my dad used to recite. It always fascinated me:
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"I saw a ball last night,
In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady,
Whose wings were pearly-white.
The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
Had smashed the cellar pane.
We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
And then of snow and rain.
But we were dressed for winter,
But we were dressed for winter,
But we were dressed for winter,
And loved to hear it blow
In honor of the lady,
In honor of the lady,
In honor of the lady,
Who makes potatoes grow,
Our guest the Irish lady,
The tiny Irish lady,
The airy Irish lady,
Who makes potatoes grow.
II
"Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the band,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand.
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their arms were just the same.
They jigged and whirled and scrambled,
Jigged and whirled and scrambled,
Jigged and whirled and scrambled,
In honor of the dame,
The noble Irish lady
Who makes potatoes dance,
The witty Irish lady,
The saucy Irish lady,
The laughing Irish lady
Who makes potatoes prance.
III
"There was just one sweet potato.
He was golden brown and slim.
The lady loved his dancing,
The lady loved his dancing,
The lady loved his dancing,
She danced all night with him,
She danced all night with him.
Alas, he wasn't Irish.
So when she flew away,
They threw him in the coal-bin,
And there he is today,
Where they cannot hear his sighs
And his weeping for the lady,
The glorious Irish lady,
The beauteous Irish lady,
Who
Gives
Potatoes
Eyes."
Vaschel Lindsay.
Listeners, check out Lindsay's biography sometimes. He called poetry the oral art. Fabulous!
Thanks Let. This station is a veritable cornucopia of culture....
cornucopia of culture...I like that!
Reminds me of my favorite NPR station.
Well, panz, you're right. Horns aplenty, especially for our listeners of Dixieland Jazz.
Back later, folks. Please keep the songs and poetry coming in.
Listeners, what is it about creative folks? They seem to be in their own world, sometimes. I felt obligated to let all of you read Lindsay's life and death.
http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/g_l/lindsay/lindsay_life.htm
Such a pity, no?
On a happier theme, our own Dys and Diane are traveling back home and at present spending time with the OTHER witch, shewolfnm.
somebody say Blizzard?
There's a blizard comming on, how I'm wishing I was home,
For my pony's lame, and he can hardly stand.
Listen to that norther sigh, if we don't get home we'll die.
But, it's only seven miles to Mary Ann's.
It's only seven miles to Mary Ann's.
You can bet we're on her mind, for it's nearly supertime
And I'll bet there's hot bisquets in the pan.
Lord, my hands feel like there froze,
And there's a numbness in my toes.
But, it's only five more miles to Mary Ann's.
It's only five more miles to Mary Ann's.
That wind's howling and it seems
Mighty like a woman's scream.
And we'd best be moving faster if we can.
Dan just think about that barn,
With the hay so soft and warm.
For it's only more miles to Mary Ann's,
It's only three more miles to Mary Ann's.
[Spoken with instrumental background]
Dan get up you ornery cuss, or you'll be the death of us.
I'm so weary, but I'll help you if I can.
Alright Dan, perhaps it's best, if we stop a while and rest.
For it's still a hundred yards to Mary Ann's.
[Sand]
It's still a hundred yards to Mary Ann's.
[Spoken with instrumental background]
Late that night the storm was gone,
They found him there at dawn.
He'd-a-made it but he just couldn't leave old Dan.
Yes, they found him there on the plains,
Hands froze to the reigns.
He was just a hundred yards form Mary Ann's.
[Sang]
He was just a hundred yards from Mary Ann's...
<<
www.LyricsMansion.com >>
Oh, my gawd, edgar. I just got chills. I swear, I was thinking of that song. Did Jim Reeves do it?
This song just popped into my head, listeners, but I really don't know who did it:
Old faithful, we rode the range together.
Old faithful, in every kind of weather,
When the roundup days are over,
There'll be pastures white with clover.
For you, old faithful pal of mine.
And this one: (sorry, I have to write em before they vanish from my mind)
Just as the son was sinkin' over the hill,
Just as the day was through.
There sat a cowboy and his partner named Bill,
The cowboy was feeling blue,
Bill said now let's go to town pal,
Down into town pal,
Good time for me and you.
Don't mind your old gal,
Her love is cold pal,
If what you say is true.
Where is she now Bill cried?
The cowboy he just replied.
San Antoni--antonio
She hopped upon her pony,
And she rode away with Tony.
If you see her just let me know,
And I meet you in San Antonio.
Gentleman Jim Reeves it were.
My oldest sister loved "He'll Have to Go."
Here's an interesting news item, listeners:
Why Taxi Drivers Have Bigger Brains
The next time you have just minutes to get to the airport and you put your fate in the hands of a taxi driver, take comfort in this: Chances are, that taxi driver has a bigger brain than you do.
A new study published in the journal Nature concludes that the type of navigational skills used by taxi drivers releases a flurry of cell activity in different parts of the brain when they identify where they are, where they are going, and when they have arrived.
Researchers from Brandeis University in Massachusetts enlisted seven epileptic patients to play a taxi-driver computer simulation game. These volunteers were chosen because they already had electrodes implanted in their brains, making it easy for the researchers to track their brain activity. The participants played the game, searching a virtual town for passengers and then delivering them to various shops. The results showed that we humans use a network of brain cells to help us navigate. "In other words, these cells form a kind of map of the environment that you're navigating," lead researcher Michael J. Kahana told Reuters. When we're in a familiar location, cells in the brain's hippocampus respond, while cells in the parahippocampal cortex respond when a familiar landmark comes into view.
All of which may explain why research conducted three years ago at London's Institute of Neurology found that the brains of cabbies actually grow to a larger-than-average size after years on the job, reports the BBC News Online. Specifically, the hippocampus enlarges and adapts to help them store a detailed mental map of the city.
Scientists--as well as parents and teachers--have long known that we learn better when we're motivated. Cab drivers are motivated to learn the most efficient routes so they can get more passengers and earn more money. This motivation encourages them to learn the network of roads, which may also help them build their brains.
Myths or not:
A high forehead signifies intelligence.
High cheekbones are the sign of aristocracy.
Long fingers are classified as piano playing hands.
Well, panz. I meant to do my work today, but..................................
whoaaaaaaaaaa that's big
i'll edit it down and then ...
lemme know where you need the pic transported Letty.
sorry for the interruption from the maintenance department.
<backs out of booth>
