SONG OF THE DAY: Train Leaves Here This Morning

There is, in fact, no more trains running from here on a daily basis. You’re gonna have to drive 45 minutes away to catch a train, and it doesn’t leave there tomorrow morning. They only run every other day and not on Sundays. They don’t sell tickets there either, you have to buy them online. Good luck though!

SONG OF THE DAY: Cumberland Gap

As a kid growing up, I called them butter beans, but somewhere along the way it became lima beans. There’s a lot of weird little things about the way I talked that got shamed out of me over the years, which I’ve realized was usually class-based shit that got projected on me from others (and felt pretty heavy). But it’s also weird because if I say “butter beans” today, it feels performative; like, I’ve lost the natural inclination to call them tasty little legumes by that name. And when I look at that as one thread, and start pulling at it, unraveling the sweater of my current existence, well, it kinda fucks me up. So I am going to fry up some chicken gizzards and eat them with butter beans tonight, and some leftover rice and mustard greens I have too. And I will set a single fried chicken gizzard and butter bean out in the back yard for the ancestors. I know they’ve been lurking lately because a lot of tricksterism has been happening, which is usually a sign I need to be listening to them better. Probably they’re mad because I talk so funny now.

SONG OF THE DAY: Nobody's Clown (Payaso Version)

I have a theory that Trump surviving his assassination attempt in Pennsylvania actually was divine intervention, but reverse psychology from what his cultists believe. If he had died that day, all the idiocy underlying what is happening now as the United States is being dismantled would have made a martyr of him and it would’ve further justified the illogical foundations of what they want to do. As it stands, he survived, and now the self-important idiots are smashing through DC like the Schlitz Malt Liquor Bull in an antique store, and it also turns out that all you had to do to overturn the Constitution is just decide it didn’t matter. I mean, I never would’ve argued with that, which is part I was so frustrated with folks who felt like “checks and balances” actually meant shit. So many people will get hurt unnecessarily as these idiots pretend they know what’s best, including many of the cultists and constituents who propped their congressional support up. It’ll be too late (and in fact already is in terms of checks and balances). But, the idiocy in charge is not smart enough to stay on top of everything and not have a whole bunch of gathered angry people wanting to set fire to them, and that day will come, sooner or later, and these idiots will be known as idiots for a couple generations, which wouldn’t have happened if Trump had got hit that day.
The cruelty of it all fills me with anger, and I senselessly want to fight someone today. And the reality is we have entered an era where words put in public will be held against you, not in the pretend cancel culture way they claim caused so much trouble, but the real cancel culture of fascists shitheads, who will accumulate enough marks on a person’s list of strikes against them, and folks like you and me will get an all expenses paid disappearance to the new Club Guantanamo or the one the crypto President in El Salvador said he was willing to build. Oh well. Fuck these devils, I won’t be one with them and I ain’t gonna do shit they want me to.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Get Lifted (kudzu'd)

This has been one of my favorite slowed 45s the past few months, and to be honest, I just love Latimore as an entity. That dude just has a wild aura about him. So I knew I had to find some good imagery to steal from the internet’s vast innards to put behind this one. An old Soviet cartoon did the trick, and good lord does this one line up so beautifully throughout. It’s magic, and I own none of the intellectual property… I just mash it together with slight effects and cook this shit up as my contribution to the culture that is digital mash-up of everything that ever existed before. The 45s on 33 playlist on youtube of videos I’ve made over the years is getting close to 400. That’s a lot of damn foolish ass videos like this. So get lifted.

SONG OF THE DAY: The Message (kudzu'd)

“Don’t push me, I’m close to the edge,” skipping and repeating should be the national anthem.

SONG OF THE DAY: Don't Stop Believing (kudzu'd)

The illusion of democracy is gone and we live in a technofeudal state post-coup. You may not think that’s the case, and you might still believe in the exceptionalism of America, but when it’s all said and done, the date in the history books for when this started will be from before today. So it’s not still yet to arrive… it’s already here. Adjust your plans accordingly.
And if you believe in a God that wants you to treat other human beings in cruel and heartless ways, you’re either interpreting the text in a strange way, or your God has lost their way.

SONG OF THE DAY: I've Got Bills To Pay

Hoping to go to the discount shopping store today to stock up on giant sacks of flour and rice. Kinda funny right now because the consumer identity preppers aren’t really prepping, because they feel like President Musk and his old orange puppet are the culmination of what they hoped for. But shit’s already gotten insane the past two weeks (half the country afraid they gonna lose their jobs, planes falling out the sky, cruel executive orders telling people they shouldn’t exist), and it’s only going to get worse. And there are no guardrails actually. We were always taught there were guardrails, but who knew all it took was somebody to come along and say, “Nah, that’s cool. I’m just gonna do whatever the fuck I want.”
And while, if you’re paying attention to all this stuff in real time, it’s very scary, people throughout history around the world also still just live their lives. Many other places in the world have gone through this, and the exception of America we were all taught isn’t true. People can put their head down, exist through chaos, and if necessary stand up in large crowds and yell, “This is too damn much.” I’d suggest stocking up on food, because prices are about to get crazy, and supply chains are about to be broken. And I’d also say plan on standing outside somewhere with a bunch of people, yelling, “Fuck you, make me.”

SONG OF THE DAY: Learned the Hard Way

Thought I lucked out and snagged this from the Mango Hill bandcamp a while back, but they were actually out of it. The plate tectonics of physical music trickle down into used bins means there’s a lot of stuff I love that ain’t gonna show up nearby. That’s good though. No matter how global and know-it-all we think we’ve gotten, the physical world still depends on physical movement of matter. The revolution will not be digitized.

SONG OF THE DAY: Barnyard Banjo Pickin'

Stringbean was sagging before any of y’all was sagging. To be honest, when I tried unsuccessfully to learn banjo last year, I just wanted to be the New Stringbean. I guess I’m more of a sugar snap.

SONG OF THE DAY: Take Me To The River

Sometimes you just want a slightly blander version of a great song… not necessarily bad, but Levon Helm ain’t Al Green. You can’t always go sit by the river on a Friday afternoon. Sometimes you gotta do it on Tuesday, too.

SONG OF THE DAY: Waiting on the Sidelines (kudzu'd)

Making a resolution to sit on the porch a whole lot more, and with my phone on the other side of the house. My front porch is actually my back porch, due to the layout of my house historically being attached to the opposite side functionally that it is now. This works well because most visitors arrive at the back porch (on the front) and knock and unless they knock really loud or I wanna acknowledge hearing them, I can just keep sitting on the back porch (true front). Just to the left of that porch, I took one of them empty metal spools from them running fiber, laid it sideways, and got a bunch of quartz piled up around it and pentatonic wind chimes hanging from it, plus a big ass quartz rock on top of an old railroad spring squeeze into the middle. And then I got excess spray painted railroad spikes pointed in the four directions. I told somebody it was my “Tesla coil of lounge” but they knew Tesla more as the Space Nazi’s car brand than the kook old inventor. Whatever. My ionic treatises are not attached to current events, hence the resolve to sit on the porch a whole lot more.

SONG OF THE DAY: The Model (kudzu'd)

We need to think globally about our collective problems, but act locally, as it’s a more attainable model. When I see what the Space Nazi who is also the largest hoarder of abstract wealth on the planet is doing, around the planet, it’s easy for me to think, “Well, I wish I could help him no longer exist on this mortal coil,” but that’s fairly difficult for a simple country bhoy from Wherever, America, to accomplish. But wherever in Wherever, America, you are, if you’ve got the gumption, you can find a largest hoarder of abstract wealth within 75 miles as the crow flies, and you can very well help them no longer exist on this mortal coil. This is like the opposite of trickle down economics (which doesn’t work… we’ve had enough time since Reagan’s bullshit to see that), like a trickle up fear-of-deathness. The best hoarders of abstract wealth, both globally and locally, really need to be more afraid.

SONG OF THE DAY: Born to Lose

Got this song title tattooed on my left shoulder, right above the peace sign that says LOVE I stuck and poked with my dad in his trailer when I was 16. That was my first tattoo… a stick and poke with my dad in our trailer (in case you needed a receipt for the “born to lose” claim).

SONG OF THE DAY: Easin' In

Despite the wonderfully funky suggestion of my man Edwin Starr, we do not appear to be easin’ in to all this new shit going on in the world. But then again, we knew these dipshits were gonna come in with heavy hands and dark hearts. Fuck it. Lounge will always prevail.

UPCOMING EVENTS with ya boy dirtgod

Well, with social media rapidly becoming useless right before our eyes, I figured I better go back to hyping things here and at my blog. I've got two upcoming events set in stone so to speak...

THROWBACK VINYL at GUAJIROS (Charlottesville, VA; Jan. 24, 6-9 pm)
The fine folks over at Guajiro's restaurant in Charlottesville have been dedicated to this vision for Noches de Vinilo on Friday nights, and it's nice to see some DJ opportunities actually opening up here. I signed up for February, but there were some additional openings, and I took this Friday, January 24, as an excuse to dig through all my old '90s vinyl and bring out the OG boom bap singles. I'm not sure if I'm just gonna spin instrumentals the whole night, or what, but I've got 2 or 3 crates of classic material I'll be toting down. It's been crazy to realize what OG original 12-inches I actually have (Wu Tang, most all the early Rawkus singles, even the first MF Doom single). Some of this stuff might actually be valuable, but you know me. Fuck that. We gonna spin that shit!

BLUE RIDGE WYRD at RAPUNZELS (Lovingston, VA; Feb. 8, 7 pm)
Our second oral storyteller open mic will pop off at Rapunzels in Lovingston (about 25 minutes south of Charlottesville), and it'll be on a Saturday this time. We've made this a benefit for Blue Ridge Bail Fund as well. The first one was lovely, and I've been recruiting (aka bugging) folks for the second one as well. Even if you don't got a story to share, come out and support the event. Last time was definitely a riot.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rain and Snow

I am not sure there’s a more perfect song ever recorded. This dude’s wailing singing is just beyond reproach. It is like a full moon over snowy expanse, etched into vinyl. Just perfect.

SONG OF THE DAY: A Raving Night (Flemming Dalum and Steen Gjerulff Remix)

“Italo-disco” is the ironic cop mustache of $16 omelets with artisanal bacon and avocado, usually wearing a $75 Nascar t-shirt where they can’t even name 3 of the races. As always, fuck Sturgill Simpson.

SONG OF THE DAY: My Key Don't Fit

Is this a euphemism? (Everything is. Always.)

SONG OF THE DAY: Del Barrio Pal Barrio (kudzu'd)

I love slowed music. I love screwed music as DJ Screw did and I love cumbia rebajadas as Sonido Dueñez did in Monterrey. And as a 45 collector (lol, what a horrible fate), there’s been a notable rise in indy labels putting out cumbia music that’s new, and with a rebajada sound to it. BUT GUESS WHAT? I’m still gonna play your fuckin’ 45 slow. So this is double rebajada I guess. Fuck it. The slower the better. Humans be moving way too damned fast. The Earth don’t spin that fast. Takes a whole day to spin once, and a full goddamn year to get all the way around our little space. So all this “rise and grind” or “hustle and grind” shit misses me. I was meant to laze about, with berry stains in my beard.

SONG OF THE DAY: Dirty Work

What an amazingly catchy fuckin’ song. This shit is beyond ear worm; like it bores down into your soul and you’re just walking to go put the clean clothes from the washer into the dryer and this shit starts singing from deep inside of you, and there’s nothing you can do but sing it. It’s annoying. MK-Ultra ass bullshit.

SONG OF THE DAY: 'Neath That Cold Grey Tomb of Stone

My attempt at learning banjo fizzled after finger rolling style was just too damn hard. I think I might take another shot at clawhammer style, but because I’ve never been able to learn an instrument, I feel like a failure. My youngest kid has gotten the hang of guitar though, self-taught and doing pretty damn well with it. Maybe I was just missing something in my brain to get it right, I don’t know.

SONG OF THE DAY: Good Things

About once every 3 years, I want to shave my beard off, completely. It’s usually a sign that the vibes are off and there’s an itch to my soul I need to fix. There’s too many good things in life for the vibes to off.

haiku spike drop - January 6, 2025

I began posting new haiku spikes on my Patreon, with the story behind them. It is a free post for all followers of the Patreon, so you don't have to be a paying subscriber to read it. You can scope that new post out here.
And as a reminder, scope out my Dirtgod Illegitimate Artz Emporium, where you can actually get the spikes. I also accept off-the-grid venmo/cashapp/cash for them as well (naturally).

SONG OF THE DAY: Ev'ry Soul Is There

Americana music can be a hit or miss type thing. Wide swaths of it feel more hipster-oriented, like wealth adjacent folks cosplaying as old school country in vintage outfits more than authentic music. Don’t even get me started on my disdain for Sturgill Simpson, and his son-of-an-Appalachian-narcotics-officer bullshit. Whatever credibility anybody out there wants to explain to me he has is automatically negated by the aforementioned familial fact about him and him wearing a goddamn cop mustache. Wack with a capital ack. Usually my personal litmus test for Americana music is whether it would jibe with the longhaired redneck crowd… those country ass dudes who are too outlaw to even bother telling you about it, because honestly, they don’t want anyone bothering them about their shit. They are like 1%ers without motorcycles, nor the means to afford a nice Harley, much less all the material accouterments that go with that. It’s a 1%er outlaw club that drives whatever the fuck is still running and has gas in it, so they might be in an ’87 Dodge Ram one day, then an old Ford Escort stationwagon with a trash bag window on the passenger side the next, and then you see them on Friday night at the liquor store and they’re driving a fairly decent Firebird somehow. This is pretty much my dad and all his closest conspirators of FTW that I saw back in the day growing up. Malcolm Holcombe always felt completely in that crowd, like he’d be totally comfortable sitting at the kitchen table smoking a bowl with those dudes. I have loved his music for a while, and he was that refreshing actual outlaw rural voice that was tolerant of the things you’d hope one was tolerant about (folks’ sexual identity, who they wanted to fuck or how they wanted to be in the world) and intolerant of the shit actual outlaws should be intolerant of (the police state, in fact the whole goddamn militarized pyramid scam from the top down, which too many rural dudes who consider themselves outlaws seem all too intent on mentally fellating every chance they get). I had really hoped to see Holcombe perform live at some point, but I knew he was old, and word of his health problems got online as his performances became fewer and farther between. He passed away last year, but he left behind a large body of work, that if you’re looking for music that is more country than country music, and way more outlaw than the bullshit your local All Lives Matter jack ass is bumping, you should go digging into Holcombe’s discography. This was off the last album released after he died, of the stuff he was working on in the end. That makes this song feel a little more more… didn’t really know what more to put there. It’s just more. I love this dude and I hope he has found peace, and may his memory be a blessing.