Tyler Childers (Country)

There is a place between a man’s lips and his heart that bellows without any bitter interference.  As a young boy on Sunday mornings in Pine Top, Kentucky at the Omaha Bible Church, I first experienced the sweet mountain bellow from the ladies that would sing solo hymns without any accompanying instruments or electrical amplification.  The best part of going to church to me has always been the music. I can’t help but wonder if any ladies of the mountain imprinted that sweet bellow on a young Tyler in some southeastern Kentucky church because he sure bellows from that sweet spot that only pain can orchestrate.

I can’t tell if Tyler is from Paintsville or Louisa. Kentucky. He sings about Hindman and Virgie which is a half days walk from where most my family line runs hot. So maybe I’m naturally partial to this artist.  Maybe it has to do with Sturgill Simpson co producing Tyler’s soon to be released “Purgatory” album. Maybe it has to do with his lyrics bringing home the stories of life that know my own breath so well. Maybe it has to do with a little heathen having sat in a church pew in Pine Top, Kentucky so many years ago. I’m partial to Tyler Childers music and I can’t see no good reason not to be.

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“The preacher raised a finger. He plunged it into the Bible, his eyes roving the benches. When the text was spread before him on the printed page he looked to see what the Lord had chosen. He began to read. I knew then where his mouth was in the beard growth.

“‘The sea saw it and fled: Jordan was driven back. The mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills like lambs. Tremble, thou earth…’ ”

He snapped the book to. He leaned over the pulpit.

“I was borned in a ridge-pocket,” he said. “I never seed the sun-ball withouten heisting my chin. My eyes were sot upon the hills from the beginning. Till I come on the Word in this good Book, I used to think a mountain was the standingest object in the sight o’ God. Hit says here they go skipping and hopping like sheep, a-rising and a-falling. These hills are jist dirt waves, washing through eternity. My brethren, they hain’t a valley so low but what hit’ll rise agin. They hain’t a hill standing so proud but hit’ll sink to the low ground o’sorrow. Oh, my children, where are we going on this mighty river of earth, a-borning, begetting, and a-dying – the living and the dead riding the waters? Where air it sweeping us?”- James Still (excerpt from River of Earth)

 

Butcher Babies (Heavy Metal)

butcher-babies-tour-111

 

The name, the name, the name just offends the hell out of my conditioned morality, but could the name be an indictment against the government of my beloved nation?  The music, the music, the music just mellows the hell out of me. Literally. I love this shit. Labels be damned. I read on the internet that Carl Jung said that screaming could never be musical. On many things that Mr. Jung reported, I have little to quarrel with.  On screaming being musical, I offer Butcher Babies as to my side of the disagreement. To be fair to Mr. Jung, he never got to listen to Butcher Babies.

I also read on the internet that Heavy Metal actually soothes and relaxes the listener according to scientific experiments. I love science like I love Democracy and Religion when it supports my preconceived ideas and feelings of my perspective. It is often said that the truth will make one cry, but rarely is it said that it will make you laugh and when truth pasts wailing into laughter than truth has made its aim.

Listen to the Music.

 

And yes, I adore cleavage.

 

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Smiling Dead

Where opinion rules
The sharpest chisel wins
The blood of truth drains
The spirit into the Devil’s
lake of confusion

Facts become idols
to a shivering junkie
seeking that true warm
fact filled needle.

He wanders the streets
seeking his fix
with plenty of money
and pushers to oblige

He hits Main Street
All the usual suspects there
pushing bad dope that
leaves him cold and clammy

He hits Wall Street
It’s the best looking dope
He has seen in weeks
When he cooks it
It disintegrates.

He hits the hood
The dope left him desperate,
depressed and hopeless
with no withdrawals.

He hits the suburbs
The dope felt great
but blinded him and
made him deaf

He hit the park
Lying naked, bruised and
violated he was later found
with a needle dangling from his arm.

Smiling Dead.