Oh, standing there by, a broken tree, Her hands are all twisted, she's pointin' at me, I was damned by the light comin' over as she, Spoke with a voice that disrupted the sky...
She said, "Walk on over, yeah, to bitter shade, I will wrap you in my arms," and you know, she said, "Let me sign... Let me sign..."
And, do you know this one by Cream? (...and Robert Johnson!).
I'll bet Bagman and Suldog know it, definitely!
I went down to the Crossroads, tried to beg a ride... Down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees. Asked the Lord above for mercy, "Save me if you please." ...Mmm, the sun goin' down, boy, dark gon' catch me here oooo, ooee, eee boy, dark gon' catch me here I haven't got no lovin' sweet woman that love and feel my care.
...Lord, that I'm standin' at the crossroad, babe, I believe I'm sinking down.
I wandered in to see la Wiki today...
Lawd, that goddess-girl can go on and on, as can la Fhina, I hear some of you say...
The cheek of it, mes bloggy snouts...
Anyhoo, I digress, where was she...? Oh yes, I had a question to put to la Wiki about the myth about people making a pact with the devil, selling their soul in return for some favour or another...
Goddess Wiki told me, "...According to traditional Christian belief in witchcraft, a pact with the devil is between a person and Satan...
"The person offers his or her soul in exchange for diabolical favours. Those favours vary by the tale, but tend to include youth, knowledge, wealth, or power... ...The bargain is a dangerous one, for the price of the Fiend's service is the wagerer's soul. The tale may have a moralizing end, with eternal damnation for the foolhardy venturer. Conversely it may have a comic twist, in which a wily peasant outwits the Devil, characteristically on a technical point.
"Among the credulous, any apparently superhuman achievement might be credited to a pact with the Devil, from the numerous European Devil's Bridges to the superb violin technique of Paganini.
Here is some modern artwork portraying Robert Johnson standing at the Crossroads...
"MUSICIANS: The idea of "selling your soul for instrumental mastery and fame" has occurred several times within music, usually in guitar -ominated genres and more specifically in pre-World War II rural Blues. Bluesmans' crossroads, located in Tchula Junction, Mississippi, is said to be the universal meeting grounds for such exchange. It was said that in your twenty-seventh year the devil would come to collect his property.
"Paganini, the Italian violinist, may not have started the rumour concerning him, but he played along with it... It probably did his famous reputation no harm in those days before Youtube and literacy education... Guiseppe Tartini, Venetian violinist and composer, believed that his Devil's Trill Sonata was inspired by the Devil's appearance before him in a dream.
Tommy Johnson, blues musician, is alleged to have sold his soul for his talent, and perhaps most famous of all is, Robert Johnson, blues musician... Some people claimed he met with Satan at the crossroads and signed over his soul to play the blues and gain mastery of the guitar.
"The folklorist Alan Lomax considered that every African American secular musician was "in the opinion of both himself and his peers, a child of the devil, a consequence of the view of the European dance embrace as sinful in the extreme". In recorded Blues, the theme first appeared in 1924 in the record by Clara Smith, "Done Sold My Soul To The Devil (And My Heart's Done Turned To Stone)".
The crossroads detail was widely believed to come from Johnson himself. Johnson's high emotion and religious fervour are hard to explain as resulting from the mundane situation described, unsuccessful hitchhiking as night falls. The crossroads myth offers a simple literal explanation for both the religion and the anguish..."
This song, that you might listen to again and again, if you're like me, easily distracted by the shiny (Youtube), and prone to obsess... is from a very young English musician, Robert Thomas-Pattinson... I believe that the lyrics play out, with references to a young woman, finding herself at the Crossroads, and being tempted to sign a pact with the devil - A theme common with blues musicians.
You might know Robert better as Cedric Diggory in one of the Harry Potter films... I didn't, sorry about that... Or as the Byronic hero in the film, Twilight.
I think this soulful fragment of a song is a little piece of bloggy treasure. I hope that you like it too... La Wiki says she prefers Glenn Campbell's Wichita Lineman... I think she's getting a little too big for her Christian Louboutins, if you ask me...
Phew, it's getting all close here in Fhina's boudoir again... The windows have gone all steamy again... Is it me?!
I had never heard of Ray Lamontagne before Taylor Hicks sang a soul-and-heart-felt 'Trouble' on American Idol back in 2006...
I really 'got', I understood where Taylor was coming from as an artist, his musical vibe, his soulful riff... And who cared that he was prematurely grey-gray-haired, like Leno, and could dance like your uncle at a wedding, according to Scowl... (Simon Cowell of Syco - Never was a company better named! ;) I love him really, even the high-waisted troos and regimental loo-brush coiffure! )
I was pleased when Taylor won the competition, but I was concerned that he'd have to compromise his musical style as a result of the 'Hollywood Artiste Mincing Machine', which he sort of didn't, but then again he got dropped by his record company just last year ~ So, hey-ho...
But I was intrigued, who the hell was Ray Lamontagne?
Please listen to this, if you can find the time...
Here are the Crazy lyrics Songwriters: Burton, Brian Joseph; Callaway, Thomas Decarlo; Reverberi, Gian Piero; Reverberi, Gianfranco;
I remember when, I remember I remember when I lost my mind There was something so pleasant about that place Even your emotions have an echo in so much space
And when you're out there without care Yeah, I was out of touch But it wasn't because I didn't know enough I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Probably
And I hope that you are Having the time of your life But think twice That's my only advice
Come on now, who do you Who do you, who do you, who do you think you are? Ha ha ha, bless your soul You really think you're in control?
Well, I think you're crazy I think you're crazy I think you're crazy Just like me
My heroes had the heart To lose their lives out on a limb And all I remember Is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little Ever since I was little It looked like fun And it's no coincidence that I've come And I can die when I'm done
This was Ray's version of Gnarls Barkley's Crazy (above), which I also adored.
But Ray's own singing and song-writing is something else -- Soulful, pained, soaringly beautiful, and I have just managed to procure one ticket to see him in Newcastle later in the year...
This will be the second time I have been to one of his concerts, and he has been touring almost relentlessly, building his audience, over the past few years...
Ray is still seen as something of an underdog in the music industry.
'Under The Radar', a little like Taylor Hicks' first album...
He is avoiding the music gurus' strong sway... To cut his hair, wear what they dictate, lose the beard, be more outgoing - less private... To be more commercial in fact...
Ray has been known to perform like a soulful angel, but to say nothing to the audience at all...
Why should we expect that of anyone? Their art should be enough to cover the price of our theatre ticket, in my oh-so humble opinion...
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep Of doves in silver feathered sleep A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws, and silver eye; And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream.
I am throwing my dummy (pacifier for my US visitors...) out of my pram!
I set up Statcounter some time ago, and am just beginning to understand that whole 'key word' razzmatazz... (Fhina can be a little slow, 'tis twue! But who's counting?!)
So what was my most recent key word search via Google, that brought an unsuspecting citoyen du monde and her woozle to chez Fhina?
"What would a fat middle aged frumpy woman wear to a nice wedding when invited as a guest?"
I despair. I really do... I'm going home, in fact...
Hang on, I am home... Groannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn........................................ :{( (Don't mention the Dali-esque moustache! Touchy subject...)
Saz was the Sunday Roast subject at David McMahon's Authorblog recently - Please go and say hello, if you haven't already... Do it while Fhina is sulking over keywords...
It's the best time, I promise...
A toute a l'heure mes petits lapins du paradis xxx
A toute a l'heure mes bloggy crispy chickens, Fhina is sending you love and light through black and white, and lots of love for the weekend ahead...
If I don't see you through the week, I'll see you through the window... Watch out!
If you have any time to spare this weekend, I dare you not to be touched by the goddess that is la Stevie, singing about Sara, who has inspired my 3 Black and White posts here recently...
...If, in the bitter-sweet life that was given to me, I had in turn given life to a little baby girl instead of my little boy, Grizz, ma toute petite fille would have been christened Sara Rose. This is for her...although she never was to be... "There's a heartbeat and it never really dies..." 'All I ever wanted, was to know that you were dreaming', mes bloggy chums...
You know this image, right? But can you guess where it came from? Clickie.
In the Spring of 1939, with war against Germany all but inevitable, the British Government's Ministry of Information (part of the Civil Service at that time, doncha know?), commissioned a series of propaganda posters to be distributed throughout the country at the onset of hostilities.
It was feared that in the early months of the war Britain would be subjected to gas attacks, heavy bombing raids and even invasion. The posters were intended to offer the public reassurance in the dark days which lay ahead.
They featured a particular typeface to make them difficult for the enemy to counterfeit, and the poster conveyed a message directly from the Sovereign to his people, to calm and re-assure them... The idea was to encourage a fortitude, an attitude of mind... Because what frightens governments most of all at times of crisis is panic...
At the end of August 1939 three designs went into production with an overall print budget of £20,600 for five million posters.
The first poster, of which over a million were printed, carried a slogan suggested by a civil servant named Waterfield. He would have been called Mr Waterfield, because all senior Civil Servants were Misters in those days...
Using the crowns of George VI as the only graphic emblem, the stark red and white poster read 'Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution will Bring Us Victory'. A similar poster, of which around 600,000 were issued, carried the slogan 'Freedom is in Peril'.
But the third design, of which over 2.5 million posters were printed, simply read 'Keep Calm and Carry On'.
The first two designs were distributed in September 1939 and were posted in shop windows, on railway platforms, and on advertising boards across the country. But the 'Keep Calm' posters were stored away, intended for use only in times of crisis...
Although some may have found their way onto the walls of certain Government Offices (*cough*), the poster was never officially issued and so remained virtually unseen by the public - Until a copy turned up more than fifty years later in a box of dusty old books bought at auction by Barter Books' second hand book-shop owners, Stuart and Mary Manley .
The couple liked the poster so much that they had it framed and placed near the cash register. It attracted so many enquiries that Stuart and Mary decided to print and sell a facsimile edition which became a best-seller, both in the shop and via the internet.
What does it say about us today, that we have our nostalgic thinking caps on, and we are tappy lappying on back to Times of War, when money was tight, food was not plentiful... and the cat was asleep on the bacon-slicer down at the corner Grocery Store, which sold bully beef in finger-torture tins, with sell-by dates on them that would frighten the Kaiser...
And thus we find that this poster design has once again shivered its long fingers down the quivering spine of our Zeitgeist, encouraging us never to give up, but to fight 'them' on the beaches, as Winnie asked of us, with the King informing us to... Keep Calm and Carry On...
"... The question I would ask is, by definition, unanswerable -- the question is, "Have you ever wanted to blog about something but dared not?" I suppose it could be answered with a simple "yes" or "no" but answering yes and then blogging about it would be, logically, impossible. So you don't need to answer".
I do think about this quite a bit, dear Sirs.
And my fingers hover over the keys, waiting for the Eternal Muse to arrive for her brief, fragrant, shallow-breathing, visit.
As I sift and view each thought for aptness for Blogworld... I sieve memories, like flour for bread-making.
Memoirs come, deep and portentous... I flick through them, like cards in a Rolodex, turning down a corner on a card, making them dog-eared, much like the pages of my most loved books.
Selecting...
Downloading...
Enjoying...
...And inevitably tucking others back under the pillow.
Following on from our (almost) Twenty Questions Incredible Journey of late, mes bloggy sarsaparillas, I am turning to Artist Unplugged's great question, "What makes you angry?" Thank you, precious artist, petal -- That one does the most wonderful Zentangles, and other very wonderful art, inbetween precious slices of her life, and would you believe that occasionally her sweet bulldog, Apollo, blogs like a bloggy pro!
I have been giving some thought to this, and I even dreamed about it last night - I need to start keeping a notepad by the side of my bed to record my thoughts, which vanish like snowflakes in the Caribbean by morning...
You know by now that I value diversity in others, and try to recognise and celebrate everyone's strengths and talents, right?! So I won't repeat that.
You may know that I abhor bullying, or seeing anyone belittling another being... That gets my goat!
I am generally a pretty patient, easy-going kind of gal... Generally optimistic, 'though often anxious - A bit... Well, aren't we all? And I have broad shoulders... It takes quite a bit for me to finally lose my temper and 'blow'...
But I will wade in -- I can't help meself -- If I witness what I perceive to be injustice in life... I don't like people being picked on... This sometimes gets me into trouble, especially at work... I have a strong sense of right and wrong, and I am very liberal-minded... I think Ter Grizz has inherited the same kind of instincts, and this has occasionally got him into trouble at school... When the teacher's version of doling out justice, (however wrong or ill thought-out it may seem), has been challenged by himself...
What has recently made me very angry... And yet I am trying to deal with it logically, researching how any good parent would react, attempting to keep my skittering feelings of fear and despair under wraps, is that just before Easter, I found out that Grizz had taken up smoking...
Smoking killed my mother -- Took her to her prematurely ash-scattered-state... I hated her hacking cough, which I could hear through two rooms in my childhood home. I abhorred how smoking held her so firmly in its seductive Fifties' Hollywood Romance grasp, that it robbed her of the chance to see her beloved grand-child, 'The Boy', grow beyond an endearing five years of age... I know that smoking earlier in life had also severely damaged my father's beautiful heart...
I would have bet/gambled my house on the fact that Grizz would never, ever take to the evil weed... He was vehemently anti-smoking while growing up... And now he is grown, more mature, still a man-child, but he is still my baby... I love him deeply, even though I may occasionally think of him as a Teen Terrorist!
The night I confronted him, I sat across from him on the sofa, rhyming through all my knowledge about the dangers, the health risks involved...
Finally I asked him, (most probably in an overly-melodramatic way... I iz la Fhina, after all...)
"Can you hear your poor mum's heart breaking?"
He said he wanted to give up.
I know he did.
And I know that he's started again... 'Socially...'
I really don't and can't understand that...
I'm sorry.
And I'm angry...
But I'd never let him feel that...
Tomorrow, from the Bold and the Beautiful Butler and Bagman Chronicles comes this "... The question I would ask is, by definition, unanswerable -- the question is, "Have you ever wanted to blog about something but dared not?" I suppose it could be answered with a simple "yes" or "no" but answering yes and then blogging about it would be, logically, impossible. So you don't need to answer".
I'll try to be brief... I pwomise -- It's Sunday, after all!
Or else I shall scweam, and scweam until I make myself sick... And you too, no doubt...
