A wolf walks into a blog. Looks the editor in the eyes and says:
- I got no idea how I ended up in this joint. One minute I'm turning licks and tricks and the next one I'm gonna stick with this? Well, it better not amount to shit.
And I hope no one will be offended.
- But I would be proud if it was a somebody. Always had a preference for gentlemen with names.
Til then,
Ta-ta
Ulf De Wolf
I was gonna write an answer to Rockin Robins post about Jac Dutronc, but something came up. I started writing, but then I had to take a break to get some coffee or whatever, and when I came back my email was a-blinkin.
It was one of those weekends where you start with your pockets still jingling from yesterdays salary, a train ticket in one hand and an old Gibson in the other. You're going back home, but at the same time you're going away to find something new. Dressed in a suit, as always when going the distance.
Ya’ll might have noticed that it’s been real silent from me for a while. So let’s ease into things, take it real slow for a minute.
The dinner party was a roaring success, with chits and chats about bits and bops and a little brandy to top it off. It was the usual crowd including me and Sonny, plus a couple of cats I met over on the islands.
Whilst the rest are fast asleep here in suburbia I take a stroll to the other side of the river. Sirens are shifting between loud and super loud before the night fades into silence somewhere around the second bridge. When I've passed it it's all dead quiet again and I start to recognize the city.
Ouch. First reflex is to pull the lid of a jar of aspirins and throw a couple down ones throat. When that stunt is accomplished (without waking the girl in the bed) there's time to take a first look on the New Year.
This is it. Not "The End" as you might know it, with The Doors playin' in the background and some Vietcongs closing in. Not that. And it's not one of those scenes from a nursery home, where someone politely refuses to pull the plug even though all hope is gone and the best thing you can do is save a couple of bucks on electricity.
So, I went back to London for a couple of days. It was about time, even though the coat of paint that I left my affairs in wasn't nearly as dry as I had hoped for. But to cut the crust from the sandwich - I now got all my guitars back and I found that jacket with the leopard lapells I've been lookin' for.
I'm gonna keep this short, 'cause I gotta work on some piano arrangements later tonight and I'm going to London in the morning. To me it started like many a tales, with Bob Dylan singing a song...
This special is not only about recognizing Heartland as a genre, but also about isolating the specifics that makes Heartland Rock what it is. I've mushed through the whole blue collar concept in the Springsteen post, and I touched on the musical side of it in the Setzer post with his glass Hammonds and whatnots. This is gonna tie the knot a little bit tighter around the concept.
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