“It’s here and it’s gone on a magnolia wind.” [ Guy Clark & Shawn Camp]
Magnolia Wind is a tender old ballad from Guy Clark, a country music songwriter and performer (November 6, 1941 – May 17, 2016). Magnolia Wind has been a favorite of mine for years, and I found the song and Guy Clark’s story by way of John Prine, one of a number who covered this classic. According to Guy Clark, Magnolia Wind is “a made-up song about some boy who’s in love with Sis [Draper]”, a fiddle-player who taught Shawn Camp, the song’s co-writer, to play fiddle. No wonder it’s become a cherished part of the legendary, story-telling culture of country music.
The magnolia is a large and ancient variety of aromatic flowering plants, a genus that’s been around for up to 20 million years. I don’t have any in my yard, but neighbors do, and I do my best to capture something of the magnolia’s brief but sumptuous blooming period in the spring. The blooms don’t last long. Much the same as the lyrics, “it’s here and it’s gone on a magnolia wind.”
Sometimes you hear accomplished and celebrated musicians talk about the first chord they learned to play. I’ve heard Paul McCartney talk about when The Beatles only knew three chords. It makes me remember we’re all people. The same basic genes. We all start out the same. How can these musicians remember their first chord? I don’t even remember my first chord. I’m sure it was A, A minor, or C, maybe F, but I don’t really remember my first chord. Maybe E??? E minor? House of the Rising Sun?? No, not House of the Rising Sun. Possibly Blowin’ in the Wind, or Cruel War. Some Peter, Paul & Mary Song.
So maybe there’s still hope for me? Maybe not. I’ve been at this a long time. But there will always be a special place in my heart for guitar chords and picking guitar strums.
For those moments when we as individuals think everyone seems so much better than us, we can remember we all start with an A, an A minor, or a C. Maybe an E. Your first guitar strum. Yeah, just like that. Where I’m heading, I don’t know, but there’s the basic stuff we all had to learn when we start out.
Picture yourself in a boat on a river With tangerine trees and marmalade skies Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly A girl with kaleidoscope eyes
John Lennon, of course. Lucy in the Sky.
Meter to me is unattainable. I can hear it, I’m sure I like it, I just can’t grasp it. It would take a whole lot of focus and concentration for me to get it. Hence, I leave it to the professionals.
John Lennon would have been 81 tomorrow, and Lucy in the Sky begins with one of my favorite lines of all time.
Picture yourself in a boat on a river With tangerine trees and marmalade skies Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly A girl with kaleidoscope eyes
John Lennon, of course. Lucy in the Sky.
Meter to me is unattainable. I can hear it, I’m sure I like it, I just can’t grasp it. It would take a whole lot of focus and concentration for me to get it. Hence, I leave it to the professionals.
John Lennon would have been 81 tomorrow, and Lucy in the Sky begins with one of my favorite lines of all time.
This afternoon, heading out to the plant nursery, I reached for the dashboard and popped the Sirius button. The radio came on with a voice that was distinctly Dylan. It was The Beatles Channel, but Dylan’s song was a nice change of pace. Sometimes they play recordings by artists who inspired The Beatles. The program was Dark Horse Radio, a show Laura Cantrell hosts, which features George Harrison’s music. As they describe it, all things George. Minutes later, waiting at the light, I realized they were playing Dylan again. Both were songs I didn’t know.
The host spoke after the second song, noting that both recordings featured George in the instrumentation. She continued, as I turned into the parking lot, to say Dark Horse Radio was playing Dylan music in celebration of Bob Dylan’s 80th birthday. Whoah! Bob Dylan is 80 years old?
His birthday was on the 24th, and maybe I’ll spend the evening playing some Dylan tunes.
Bob Dylan. Surely one of the best songwriting talents of his generation.
First, you want to picture him. One-of-a-kind in that blue sky / white cloud suit, his impish grin, and those big brown eyes, drawing you in….
Okay? Ready?
One, Two, One, two, three, four.
I was working part time in a five-and-dime. My boss was Mr. McGee. Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing But different than the day before. That’s when I saw her, ooh, I saw her. She walked in through the out door, out door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
[lyrics from Prince’s Raspberry Beret]
[This is a re-post. Prince passed away five years ago, a genius lost much too soon.]
Forty-nine years ago, August 1, 1971. The Concert for Bangladesh. In reality, two concerts. Performed to raise awareness, and funds for relief, of refugees caught up in the war in Bangladesh.
Earlier that year, Ravi Shankar, an Indian musician and friend to George, told him about the desperation in Bangladesh and asked George to help. The short of it is George said okay. A couple of months went by without a real plan, but another five or six weeks and George pulled together his friends, Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, Billy Preston, Leon Russell, Ringo Star, and the band Badfinger, and Ravi Shankar recruited another Indian musician, Ali Akbar Khan, and they all performed at Madison Square Garden on the first day of August.
The back story covers a lot of musical history, and intersects the lives of some well-known and talented people. In 1961, George was 18 and performing in Germany with an early pre-Ringo version of The Beatles. Fast forward ten years, the musical group called The Beatles exploded into THE BEATLES and took over the world, until the individual Beatles went their separate ways in 1970. George was more and more interested in spirituality and eastern philosophies and music traditions, and was evolving musically to bring these influences into his craft. By 1971, he had his own solo albums and was producing the soundtrack for Raga, a documentary film on Shankar. Nevertheless, he hadn’t performed on stage as a solo act yet.
That summer, George was 28 and organizing in my memory one of the first big, really big, aid concerts in modern history. Dealing with the venue, performers, filming, recordings, the tax man, and everything else that’s involved in planning an event like this, with the goal (and determination) to get the money to where it was needed, in Bangladesh, and not everywhere in between.
So. Picture this. The end of the concert. George at the microphone. The master of ceremonies. The other performers were done. Clapton was dealing with some serious addiction issues and barely made it through his bit with George. And George didn’t know at this point if Dylan would perform. The day before, Dylan told George he was too nervous. About the crowd. For every one of us who’s stumbled over our own words because looking out at faces brings on brain freeze, there’s the idea of a nervous Bob Dylan. Are we all human or what? Bob Dylan, yes THE Bob Dylan, was nervous about the crowd and not sure he could perform. Whatever was happening in his life, he hadn’t really performed in concert for a number of years, and wasn’t sure he could do it. Why does this awkward little detail appeal to me?
George looked around the darkened stage, bright lights in his eyes, to see if the big act would come out and sing.
And yes, Bob Dylan was the big act. There was in fact a question mark next to his name on the concert playlist. What was George thinking during that flash of a minute? It must have been something like, “Oh shit, what am I doing here?” I haven’t seen that quote, but what else would be going through his head?
Then, yes … there he was. Bob Dylan. To paraphrase George’s description, his denim jacket, his harmonica, and his guitar. Dylan looked young and uncomfortable, but the music started. It was A Hard Rain’s A-gonna Fall, and he knew his song well.
Forty-nine years ago.
___________________________ Images from: the fest for beatles fans snf your beatles station
When rain has hung the leaves with tears, I want you near to kill my fears, to help me to leave all my blues behind. For standin’ in your heart is where I want to be and long to be. Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind
etikser 