Snow Shoveling

Mark it:  December 14th is the first day this “winter” I have to blow the cobwebs off the ‘ol snow shovel and hump white shit off the driveway.

For some of my neighbors this is a joyful day, as being the hard-working rural folk they are, they’ve been waiting with jerrycan of gasoline in hand since November 1st just waiting for the first snowflake to fall from the sky so they can start up their snowblowers.

For me, it’s simply time to break out the Hulk toque and load up on the ibuprofen since I am loathe to spend the money on gas as I am to operate heavy machinery.

So, yeah…snow.


Usually snow shoveling calls for a little Jazz Boner to lessen my suffering, but today’s storm took me completely by surprise and I don’t have anything immediately lined up so on the iPod so, instead, I’m indulging in something more Glamilicious, the ‘My People Were Fair and Had Sky In Their Hair…But Now They’re Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows‘  by T. Rex.


And award for the longest, most pretentious album title goes to…

This is the debut album by psychedelic folk band Tyrannosaurus Rex (later known as T. Rex) released on July 5th, 1968 by record label Regal Zonophone.

Until he joined John’s Children, in March, 1967, Marc Bolan had never even owned an electric guitar.  And once he quit the band, it is said, he abandoned it as quickly as everything else which that band represented – freakbeat pop, adrenalined psych, electric soup.  In fact, Bolan never lost sight of his electric destiny, even as Tyrannosaurus Rex sawed away on their acoustic toys, a point which producer Tony Visconti cottoned onto the first time he ever saw the duo play, “Marc sitting crosslegged on stage playing his strange little songs in a wobbly voice, while Steve Took was banging on his bongos.”

Visconti himself was a novice producer, “holding out for something really different and unusual. I thought Marc was perhaps that.”  He was, and the album which he and Took delivered emphasized all the qualities which Visconti had spotted that night at the UFO club.  ‘My People Were Fair…‘  approaches the listener from a totally unique angle.  The Bolan voice, hardened from the slight warble which carried through his early solo material (still noticeable on the backups he performed for John’s Children), remains uncompromising, but it blends so perfectly with the bizarre, almost Eastern-sounding instrumentation that the most lasting impression is of a medieval caravansary whose demented Bedouin cast has suddenly been let loose in a recording studio.

It is an irresistible affair, if absolutely a child of its psychedelically-inclined time – ‘Frowning Atahuallpa‘ even recruits DJ John Peel to read a Tolkien-esque fairy tale. But one of Bolan’s loveliest compositions is here – the gentle and deceptively melodic ‘Child Star‘, layered by harmonies which hit you sideways and are all the more mighty for it; one of his weirdest, too, is included, the mutant fairy dance of ‘Strange Orchestras‘, which sounds like it was recorded by one.  Together with fellow highlights ‘Chateau in Virginia Waters‘  and ‘Graceful Fat Sheba‘, both are so far ahead of the material Bolan had been composing just a year earlier, that the inclusion of the “oldies” ‘Hot Rod Mama‘ and ‘Mustang Ford‘  is almost disappointing.   They are, however, the only sour notes sounded on an album whose magic is discernible from so many different angles that it is hard to say which is its most astonishing factor.

But it’s hard not to be drawn to the actual dynamics of ‘My People Were Fair…‘, the uncanny way Tyrannosaurus Rex take the slightest musical instruments, pixie phones, glockenspiels and a Chinese gong included, to make them sound like the heaviest rock & roll band on the planet.  Anyone could play power chords, after all. But who else would play them on acoustic guitar?

Much less listen to it while shoveling 2ft. snow drifts in polar vortex temperatures at nine o’clock at night – with beer in hand.

Apparently…this guy.

And so it begins.

Bring on Spring.


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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