The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

Wilson Pickett dies at 64

Wilson Pickett (1942-2006)

The Wicked Pickett dies of a heart attack. swac mourns by doing 1,000 dances down funky Broadway.


Tom Sutpen said...

I mourned by calling a co-worker . . . who's still trying to figure out what I was on about . . . Mustang Sally.

Besy I could do. If I called her 'Sugar, Sugar' I might have been hit with a sexual harassment suit or something.

TwistedNoggin said...

I've always thought it was nuts to mourn for a stranger just because they're famous and did some songs we like, when so many strangers die every day without having been so blessed as to be imortalized by record, CD, or what have you.

But, when John Lee Hooker passed, I still found myself listening to his music for a week straight. When Nina Simone died, my coworkers who heard about it on the radio were offering their condolenses. Maybe that sounds silly, but it is a shame to see something beautiful, like real talent, pass from this world.