Pickin' strummin' whistlin' hummin'

Cosmic brothers joel rockey and scott hensley reunite to bring their hand-crafted songlings to the acoustically pleasing rafters of southminster’s sanctuary.

What more does one want or need?

this just being one of the majestic treasures a 'mr. t' google image search will grant you.

Between Two Winding Wheels, Vol. I

So I'm preparing myself for my first shift working in an unfamiliar store as I reach for the stack of unmarked discs beneath my car's stereo. I turn the ignition and slip a certain disc in to the player when the thumping bass line of Spoon's "I Turn My Camera On" greets me for my afternoon commute. This mix of songs which followed was constructed a few years back, but I am now enjoying it all over again. I'm not sure exactly what inspired this particular mix, but this particular mix has now inspired me to revisit the rockey home mixtape archives in search of other noteworthy mixes to be shared in this new feature, "Between Two Winding Wheels"

side a:

1. spoon - i turn my camera on
2. guided by voices - never gonna have to die
3. bright eyes - another travelin' song
4. cat power - he war
5. frank black & the catholics - cold heart of stone
6. jay farrar - damn shame
7. birds of america - breath of the bloodsucker
8. michael penn - walter reed
9. tom petty & the heartbreakers - change of heart
10. the postal service - such great heights

side b:

1. rosie thomas - pretty dress
2. the shins - kissing the lipless
3. sufjan stevens - casimir pulaski day
4. wilco - the late greats (live)
5. the decemberists - engine driver
6. call and response - eclipse
7. elliott smith - miss misery
8. vigilantes of love - hard luck & heart attack
9. pedro the lion - i am always the one who calls
10. john hiatt - gone

In this new feature, we will be treated to mixes from cassettes and compact discs alike which have been compiled and shared among friends. We'll be reaching way back through the years so stay tuned...

Obsequious, purple and clairvoyant

When long ago I was an adolescent with lofty aspirations of comic stardom, much of my study time was spent reading up on my favorite funny folks, studying their hilarious hyjinks on hours of videotape and listening obsessively to their albums. For all of the attention I confess to paying many lesser artists, Steve Martin always captivated my attention like no other. His approach to comedy strayed far from conventional yet for me played like one hilarious joke that his audience was in on. I still find myself listening to his albums Let's Get Small, A Wild and Crazy Guy and Comedy Is Not Pretty! while laughing along with the absurd genius which kept me doubled over as my turntable kept endlessly spinning all those years ago.

Recently, while spending some time in Target while locked out of my car, I picked up a copy of Born Standing Up, Martin's memoir of his stand-up days. While Martin has been an avant-garde performer of comedy, a musician and an actor, he may first and foremost be considered a brilliant writer. With numerous books, plays, short stories, essays and screenplays to his credit, he has followed with an intimately engaging account of his rise to stardom and the decision to exit the platform which elevated his celebrity. After reading the book's Forward, I decided I should probably settle up and officially add this piece to the home library. As I quickly tore through the remainder of Born Standing Up, what I found most interesting among the details of Martin's stories of early relationships and his struggles into showbiz was the deeply emotional influence the relationships within his family have had on his evolution as an artist. Throughout the book, he shares candidly about the role in which his parents' passions and shortcomings alike had played in the decisions he made throughout his early career. It is the heart of this story. It is heartbreaking and true. Steve Martin is a brilliant writer and has rarely seemed so vulnerable. It's often strange and humbling when someone allows a peak behind the curtain to their true self. In Martin's case, there has suddenly emerged an entirely new dimension to his comedy.

MP3: Grandmother's Song - from Let's Get Small
MP3: The Cruel Shoes - from Comedy Is Not Pretty!

Never enough

intimate.

moving.
inspiring.
heartbreaking.
brilliant.

Eight more lives to live

hope they're good ones.
bye bye beavis.

Locked out... again

Soooo... I wake up this morning at 4:30 in the morn, get dressed and make my way downstairs for a bowl of cereal before heading off to the grind (lousy pun). I kick back in the sofa and summon my old pal pbs for some stimulating conversation while I enjoy my honey crunch 'n' oats and what to my wondering eyes should appear but the familiar face of Mister Neil Finn and the reincarnation of Crowded House performing "Italian Plastic" on Austin City Limits. My goodness, I thought I would squeal like a school girl. Yessir, this day was beginning quite well considering I had an appointment with the dentist waiting for me later in the day.

Well, the day was progressing rather uneventfully until I made my way back home from the dentist's office. I had the car window down and the radio up loud as I flashed my deep-cleaned pearly whites at other unsuspecting motorists. I gotta say, I was feeling pretty alright. I decided to make a quick stop at the library to browse the music catalog for any new additions. I pulled in to the library's parking lot and spied a front row parking space giving me that come hither glance. I couldn't resist. Stepping out of my car, I began removing my long sleeve shirt to keep cool during this unseasonably warm january morning. Then, as instinctual as taking my next breath, I tapped the automatic lock and shut the door... behind my car keys. Immediately, I realized what I had done. After all, locking keys in cars has become a regular occurrence with me recently. I began attempting to call possible family and friends who I didn't think would be too put out if they could swing by and help in my time of need and idiocy. Long story slightly longer, I ventured a block away to Target where I sat down in the store's 'Tarbucks' with an americano and enjoyed reading the prologue of Steve Martin's new memoir which I did not purchase. Soon after, my baby brother graciously gave me a ride home to retrieve a spare key. Thanks jere!

Welp! I started the day with Crowded House and now I pass on a couple appropriate tunes to you the home viewer. Hopefully, we've all learned a little something about ourselves. I know I have. Enjoy!