Wow, it's all about music this week at RtN, and it's not even Friday yet. I cleaned my desk today, and I still have three copies of Poor Bailey's two-CD Pyrite and Gold album. As I've said before on this blog, I love this band.
So check them out. Listen to "Mental Telepathy Is Dead" and "Mary Lee My One and Only," and maybe even the others. If you like them, and you're one of the first three people to tell me so on this post, I'll send you one -- free! (You'll also have to e-mail me a mailing addie at bryan@racerxill.com.) If you're in my office, you can just borrow my CD.
All I ask in return is that you come back and tell me what you think of the album. A full review would be bitchin'.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Free Music! Free Music!
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9 comments:
Great CD, I just was driving with it playing thinking I need to take apart my weedeater and see why it does not work, it occured to me I think I will do this on my porch and liten to Poor Bailey. Great CD!
josh: It is a great CD, but I can't seem to give them away! Anyone?
Poor Bailey is a great CD's (seadease) I am a review artist of sorts, my reviews are born from the memories of my past, I only review books music or whatever medium of self-expression that presents itself and makes the grade. My reviews only are a stamp of approval the rest is all left to the tangent. So here is my review of Poor Bailey...I won a contest just recently and the prize was a double CD of Poor Bailey, great band something funny happens when I listen to the music, it is like I am transported back in time and it reminds me of this period of my life...
It was around 1971/72 that I first discovered an alternative to how to determine if your motorcycle had spark or not. I credit my brother Charles Chadwick with this revelation and I will soon explain. This was in the days of Nixon’s Watergate, Hunter S Thompsons prime, Dark Side of the Moon’s debut and me learning once again that my brother cared so much about me as to teach me to trust no one.
I had been riding bikes for awhile and being a child of nine/ten I cant blame myself for being ignorant of the workings of a two stroke internal combustion engine. I knew how the method of testing for spark if your bike would not start, just take the plug out lay it on the head and kick her over, you see spark you have spark.
Good ole Chuckles ever mindful of my education taught me a shocking method of discovery.
This was along time ago so patience please, my bike would not start, I did everything I knew mechanically to diagnose the problem. The bike had gas, the fuel petcock was turned to the on position. I checked for spark…nothing. Chuck came to my rescue and started to work on my bike kick it over and over as if it could be flooded, mumbled a number of ridiculous hypothesis why my bike would not start, then I should have recognized that dreadful glint of discovery in his eyes, he had a solution. “Josh hold onto the plug while I kick it over I need to check something”…Although my last Doctors visit did not indicate I am in imminent peril of going into cardiac arrest , I learned from my beloved brother at the tender age of nineish what it must feel like when you hear from the cold distance a paramedic yell CLEAR! A shocking revelation, and a lesson well learned.
Travel through time abit to 1976 and I am riding in North Carolina with me Da and my brother, we always visited in the summers and Christmas since this was where my grandparents lived. Always a good time and always a good story , if I could only remember them all. This year it was Christmas and me da had the state of the art Yamaha 1976 360 mono-shock motocross bike. Set him back a pretty penny, I agreed not to go to college so he could indulge himself. The bike was awesome! I being a prime example of neoteny could only ride the bike if someone would start it for me and then I would run along side it and jump on when I felt I could balance the beast. The thing was a brute but my god what a blast, I can still can feel the power and glee piled upon glee and…Where was I?…Yea North Carolina, me da, Chuckles (Charlie does not like this nickname, nor do I like being shocked by a live spark plug, paybacks) were out riding on public land, a big sand field really, I dunno, this was 1976 for crying out loud and lawyers/environmentalists had not gained a foothold on the proper methods to bleed us of our freedom to ride around and have fun. Me da took a break, gassed up his new 360 and then promptly could not start the thing. So being the father of my gene pool he naturally pulled the plug on the bike and laid it on the head to check for spark, which it did indeed have and the bike suddenly fired up, not in the traditional way but in the way when kicked over a bike reeking of gas and set a live spark to it will fire up… I missed all the excitement , the futile efforts of throwing sand on the burning pyre of sport , the profanity and the facial expressions, National Geographic cover worthy facial expressions one can imagine. I road back only to find that the nitrogen shock had exploded and it was pretty cool but not worth the price of admission me da assured me. We drug our bikes home that Christmas the blackened carcass of the 360 among them and listened to the truckers and the hip crowd with CB’s make comments on the two bikes with the charred remains of something. My mom was a good sport , my da did not cry (at least in front of me) and for awhile ole Chuckles and myself had to share our bikes with Da.
josh: Wow, that CD sure sparked one hell of a memory for you.
B.
Hook me up!
I'll be by the office tomorry. Late.
geto boy: Consider yourself hooked.
Josh,
Your story made me laugh. Good way to start the day. I am especially fond of the part where you forgoed college for your da's new bike. That's classic.
I am not able to listen to it at work (not a policy, just my work computer has a media player from like 1991). So I don't know anything a all about Poor Bailey but I am looking forward to checking it out from my home computer.
Josh, from now on, please refer to your weedeater as a Weed Whacker. Its a whacker...for weeds. You spin it around all fancy-crazy, like some kind of James Bond tool.
Oh, and Josh great story. I also lke how you glossed over the fact that you traded college for your dad's bike in a quick sentence. That was a hell of a sacrifice on your part. And the bike ended up torched. Wow. Did it ever get fixed?
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