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.

SONG OF THE DAY: Left With A Broken Heart

I really need an ’85 Buick Regal to sit around in and listen to stuff like Joey Quiñones. It doesn’t even have to be a working Regal, and in fact, I don’t even have to own it. There could be a wrecked one down in the woods that I just go sit in and play a Bluetooth speaker. That’s actually preferable. Personal property taxes are way cheaper when shit ain’t your personal property.

SONG OF THE DAY: Magic Mountain

I got this on 45 because I love it slowed down and it pairs great after spinning one of my De La Soul 45s, because folks think another De La song is coming on. This is pretty basic DJ shit, but we live in unreal times where basic is complex and a lot of folks have cognitive dissonance to such a strong amount that everything is new every time they click the refresh button, which they don’t even have to click anymore as it gets clicked for us.
I am mostly drawn to non-Eric Burdon War era stuff, but lately I have made some exceptions. Maybe it’s my own cognitive dissonance.

SONG OF THE DAY: Nature's Way

This is nature’s music blog.