rock and roll musings by Tim Byrnes

Here Now the News

     First off, Jim did not drive me away from this page. My work situation has changed. The convenience store where I used to work offerred me my old job back and I took it. While it affords me more hours and as a result more money, it lacks the Internet access I had at my last job so I've been unable to post. And you know what, I barely missed it. I emailed Simmons and Neblung and got sad news regarding Mike Hegger, a mutual friend and drummer for our old band Tension Envelopes. It appeats Mike succumbed to leukemia in December of 2003. I just got the news not 10 minutes ago and am still reeling. So do I write about our history, as ugly as it got at times, do I reminisce about someone I remember faintly through an alcoholic memory?

    No, not right now. Too much to process. Too many lost memories surfacing at once. And this page offers no comfort anymore now that it's been reduced to the useless and endless arguing between Jim and I and any/all takers. All I have to offer is pain and maybe a little humor. All you offer now is god, god and more god, which I've gone down on record repeatedly as finding useless.

     So fuck you and fuck god and fuck me for the person I've become. Claim yr victory Jim. Yr gonna anyway. See you in hell.

     I'll be the one w/the nicer apartment.

tb

Posted by: timbyrnes at 19:36 | link | comments (1)

Not That It Matters Or Anything: The punkrockblues Presedential Endorsement

      My girl Arianna Huffington recently nailed the Republican party w/the following characterization (one which I'll never top): 'A party that believes in torture but not evolution'. Now that is, of course, a sweeping generalization, but essentially sums up my problems w/the Bushwhackers, especially John "George the Third" McCain, what with his 100 years in Iraq, which while not quite the baldfaced 'deaf to America' move as Cheney's "So?" in response to the FACT that over 70% of Americans are against the Iraq war, but too close for my tastes and, anyway, the man (McCain) did say that people's economic problems are 'psychological', did he not?

     And it pains me to say that this type of foolishmess has gotten elected (well, inaugurated) not once, but twice, and I expect that come January 2009 they'll be playing 'Hail to the Chief' for McCain as America will always put the old white guy in office over the brother, no matter how intelligent the brother might be, or how out of touch, or evev evil, the old white dude is. You can look it up.

     So it's safe to say I'm not backing McCain. Which leaves the Democrats. Hillary, what happened? Sniper fire in Bosnia?!!  'Shame on you, Barak Obama?!! And has anyone else noticed that, in her infamous '3 am phone call' ad, that she let the damn phone ring 6 times? Just asking. I'm left w/the feeling that this woman wants to win more than anything else, including doing what might be best for her, and my, country, and will apparently stop at nothing to do so. Deception, method acting and smear tactics. Shame on you, Hillary Clinton.

     So, whither Barak? Smoother than smooth gets smooth, so slick he don't sound slick, which is as slick as you can get, I want to believe he believes what he's saying, but the whole 'aide goes to Canada and nudge, nudge, wink, winks' the whole antiNAFTA stance of the campaign as empty promises for the populace leads me to believe that Obama ain't as above it all as he so convincingly speechifies himself to be. Clearly the best of a pretty bad lot, and probably the man I'll actually vote for, Obama's also probably a lost cause due to America's tendency to not vote for folks who make them feel stupid, and of course the whole 'old white dude' problem.

     But if I were to truly pick a person who unflinchingly sees America as the great idea gone horribly wrong that it's become and has the courage to point out painful, but obvious, cracks in our beloved system then there is only one man I see on the horizon as an honest leader, courageous enough to scream that the emperor has no clothes and that it actually was (and is) our foreign policy that's responsible for 9-11 and refuses to jingo dem bells in false patriotism while the ship is not only sinking, but on fire. A man that sees American complicity in torture and puppet regimes as what's truly anti-American, not the engaged dissent of those genuinely disappointed in what the current administion represents so reprehensibly. A man who I see as a true patriot, unafraid to stand up and decry what America has become in the view of the world.

     Ladies and gentlemen, the punkrockblues Presidential endorsement goes to the Rev. Jeremiah Wright. And before you call him a traitor (or worse) remember, America was founded by traitors. And worse.

Wright in 2008

god damn america.

Posted by: timbyrnes at 03:21 | link | comments (36)

'Scuse Me While I Dismiss This Guy: Why Jimi Hendrix Ain't Shit

      It's been getting a little too friendly here at prb lately so I figured I'd better get to curmudgeoning, which is after all what I do best. I know it approaches heresy (and there's a laughable concept if ever I heard one!) for a guitar player of my advanced years to NOT worship at the altar, so to speak, of Jimi Hendrix. Well, heresy's one of my favorite activities along w/long walks on the beach and cuddling so here goes.

     On the bootleg 'Early Hendrix' we find our left handed mutant hero playing rather pedestrian r&b w/a pickup band called Jimmy James and the BlueFlames. Recorded in May of 1965 at NYC's Cafe Wha?, a time and place important for many reasons, the most important, to me at least, is that the Velvet Underground were plying there actually original trade not 7 blocks up and over at the Dom on St. Mark's Place. Before this Hendrix played w/saxophonist King Curtis and the mid period Little Richard, in both cases playing rather traditional and pedestrian r& b. Sure he had the 'playing w/his teeth' and 'playing behind the back' tricks at that time, but so did T-Bone Walker back in the late 40's/early 50's and he (T-Bone) played a stellar combo of jazz and blues that was never trad or pedestrian.

     But, lo and behold, just a short 1 and a half years later, Jimi's all tripped out and psychedelicised, setting guitars on fire and becoming all sorts of famous by combining the aforementioned T-Bone tricks w/the kind of feedback wail and freeform, noisy improv that were Lou Reed's stock in trade in those halcyon days of the Velvet Underground, before Lou heard footsteps and fired John Cale.

     At this time, Reed hired guitar tech Bill Lawrence to install various 'effect boxes' in his Gretsch Country Gentlemen; fuzzboxes, tremelo, crude harmonizers and delays. All this before Jimi and Roger Mayer made the Fuzzface, Octavia and Univibe essential parts of any guitarists toolkit who wanted to be taken seriously in the late '60's.

     I don't think it's too vast a leap to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Hendrix, on an off nigfht from a King Curtis gig or something, wandered into the Dom and perhaps saw Lou Reed reinventing the electric guitar and thought to himself "Hmmmmmmmm." I'm just saying it strikes me odd (and grossly unfair) that 2o hits of acid later, Hendrix is crowned King of the Modern Electric Guitar - to the point that he still routinely winds up on the cover of Guitar Player 2 to 3 times a year while Lou is, well, Lou Reed respected for past work and not much else.

     Which makes me think that the main reason Jimi (and to a slightly lesser degree of adulation Stevie Ray Vaughan) has been so lionized is the fact that he is dead. DEADDEADDEAD!!!! So we never had to sit through his 'roots' record, his 'world music' record or his, by now,de riguer recordings from The Great American Songbook. Folks always say that if Hendrix were alive today he'd be 'so far beyond everyone else it wouldn't be funny'.

     I think if Hendrix were alive today he'd be just as boring and anacronistic as Clapton, Page and, yes, even Lou Reed. And that wouldn';t be funny either.

    

Posted by: timbyrnes at 04:41 | link | comments (6)

I'm the Devil and I Approved This Message

     If the world would stop moving like a skateboard for a minute I'd like to say something. Many things, actually and as usual tangentially, but at the core of all the following blather lies a take-a-deep-breath-consider-the-source-own-what-you-own apology.

     Of sorts.

     I clearly must apologize for telling Jim Muglia to fuck off and die when I really only wanted him to fuck off.

     And while I'd like to hide behind the Bill Maher shield of 'I was only kidding', when I typed those words I was pounding the keyboard like the young Little Richard,. I'm telling you, people, I was committed. And now I am ashamed and sad.

     Wishing death on another living being goes completeley against what little I admittedly believe. (I'm guessing at least a couple of folks' 'pro-choice contradiction' lightbulbs just went off, right? Listen closely, I will say this only once: my position on abortion is that, as a man, I have no say in making a woman's decision. Does it break my heart? Of course it does, for a few different reasons, but who am I - and who are you - to order someone to reproduce against their will? My answer is, as always, education and personal responsibility.)

      But such are the passions flamed by this ridiculous argument. Especially when those involved are 2, at best, inspired amateurs who love the sound of their own voice, wrapping their slightly talented minds around issues so complex as to make them like 2 mosquitos on the hide of the universe.

     We've both, Muglia and I, been small, petty, vindictive and largely ill informed and in engaging in this endless and rancoric 'debate' that our knowledge of the patently unkowable is correct (or in my case, feasable) we play right into the hands of whatever devil there might be by losing sight of god.

     Both of us.

      Throughout the last year plus of Byrnes/Muglia bullshit has there been much humility? No. Compassion? A little maybe, but not nearly enough. Understanding? Not really. Forgiveness? Don't make me laugh. Shame on me.

     And, speaking of which.........

     My feelings on the Catholic Church have been well documented here and elsewhere and, while I still find the reprehensible reprehensible I know as well as anybody else the good work done by the Church, usually by those on the lower end of the food chain; the parish priests and nuns, the neighborhood volunteers etc. I know it's a force for good in the world despite it's shady hierarchy and for what it's worth I salute that goodness.

     My current working model for god is this: god is an elemental force of good in the universe that is constantly being created and sustained by humanity through good works. Of course this then leads to the inevitable questions of 'well, what's good?' and 'Is what's good for one bad for another?' 'and Many others?' And all that human crap that gets in the way of perfection, which likely doesn't exist in the first place apart from an idea/ideal.

     In any event, speaking for myself, I have added precious little of anything close to good here lately. My natural, dramaqueen response is to give up and delete this site, or at least change it's name to 'Jim's an Idiot' and bail but, apparently I'm not that immature, after all. At least not tonight.

     And it's not like I don't appreciate the irony in as futile a gesture as apologizing to readers I've driven away, but I must and I do. Sincerely. And like that drunken boyfriend you and yr mother both know is no damn good for you, I'm gonna try to win you back by writing from my heart like a punk rock bluesman and leave the dogma to the dogs.

(Coming soon: "We Need a Bigger Piano, Phil": How Sonny Bono Invented Feedback)

Posted by: timbyrnes at 03:17 | link | comments (2)

When Worlds Collude: Uh Oh, Love Comes to Town

     It's Saturday morning, my friend and compatriot Carl Simmons left yesterday afternoon after a 2-day combination retreat, nostalgiafest and rock & roll basement jam. I'm sure it's too early for me to record my impressions of the visit but one has to start processing sometime, doesn't one?

     Back in the day (1979-1985 I think) Carl and I were in a band called Tension Envelopes, a hard drinking bunch of rowdies, at least one of whom (me) was an alcoholic speedfreak.

     Carl moved on, in his course, to find a workable understanding, and as mentioned a genuine love, of god while I continued to poison myself w/crazy women, drugs and booze for the next 9 years, getting sober in 1993.

     If he had shown up 2 months ago I would have been on top of the world,but electricity and my decisions being what they are he landed right after my self imposed downsized job and, of course, the fire.

     Here at prb or Burning Light w/no visuals to tip one off, one might assume I'm a witty, urbane and confident soul on the prairie. But in person it's hard to hide the shaken old man drowning in minimum wage, surrounded by drunks in a frontier ghetto.

     Simmons either didn't see that, didn't care or both and for that I am grateful. At 1st we sat in my apartment talking for a few hours. I confessed my embarrassment at Carl seeing me in this state, amidst the rest of my self centered babbling and the requisite 'What ever happened to........?'s. After a while we walked up to the store where I work to get coffee. No sooner had we sat down when Punkin' (that's what we call her), the clerk on duty, went out for a smoke and I had to grab the register.

     I'm glad I did because as the customers came in, I'd joke w/them, get their stuff if they couldn't find it, congratulate them on lottery winnings and basically interact w/friends, did my job well and genuinely enjoyed it.

     Just like I do every day.

     But w/Simmons there to see it and comment on it ("I don't know what yr talking about, I'm getting a George Bailey vibe".) made me see a little more clearly that my problems aren't because of the life I live, but because of the life I think I live.

     Imagine that.

     Anyhow, after that little bit of soulfood we wnt out for actual food @ a place in the next town run by my old boss George. Once again it was like Cheers where everybvody knew my name and was glad to see me. Apparently I'm not the pathetic wretch I like to paint myself. And BOY HOWDY!! Can that Simmons eat!! Like sitting across from Fred Flinstone! Poor guy had to sit there while I babbled and took way too long to eat. Sorry, Carl.

     Then back to my place where we talked about nothing and everything for a few hours. Next morning we had coffee and drove 30 miles eastward to La Junta where my friends and barband Flashback play.. This day, for a while, we had 2 bass players.

     It was amazing, after not playing bass in a band situation for, like, 10 years Simmons slid into out 'Television-on-acid' version of 'Born On the Bayou' like he's been with us all along.

     Idiot me screwed up the recording of our 2nd 'set' (thanks again for the cool recorder, Carl!) so most of the reunion was lost to the agaes but Carl, Dan, Rob, Kenny and I know that, among other things, we all played a great version of the Tension Envelopes 'classic' 'Slamming Door Repeats'. When Carl walked up to my mic to sing background vocals I almost cried. The memories evoked were sweet, the sense of community real and I'll be damned if, even these 25 years later, it's still a good song, still worth singing.

     Just like life.

(More, I'm sure on this later. Oh and Jim, we did talk about you some and agree that yr a bully.)    

Posted by: timbyrnes at 02:26 | link | comments (1)
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The Past Comes Creeping in Canal Boats: The Return of Carl Simmons

      My buddy Carl, he of the florid dashiki and genuine love of god, bassist, choir and Springsteen channeller for legendary New Jersey barband Tension Envelopes and all-around interesting guy is gonna be rolling into my fair little town come tomorrow.

     We've been in touch via email both privately and here on our respective (if not respectable) motime pages but haven't laid eyes on the other brother for, lo, these just 'bout 25 years! How can that be?

I am, of course, atwitter w/anticipation and no little dread 'cause that's how I roll but for now, I'm just gonna enjoy looking forward to seeing my friend and playing some music w/him and my band and just have a good freaking time 'cause it's about time!

Of course I'll probably be back in a week whining about all the 'old ghosts' and failure and the usual crap, but for the moment (and that's all we really have, no?) L'chaim!

Posted by: timbyrnes at 21:58 | link | comments (1)

Lyrics From the Forthcoming Album I'll Record on an Answering Machine If I Have To!!

from  'Violence Solves Everything'

  ... that's my soul there, hear it singing

in the sweet, ancient tongue of the birds

yeah, it's singing on a little song of redemption

but it's mispronouncing all of the words

and it's reverse lighting all of it's memories

so it brings all the dark to the front

and it begs you to, please, understand it

when it knows, by design, that you won't

and it knows, in it's mind, that you can't

and then the old whore starts to laugh ........................

From A Reading From the Book of Hunger

(cho) Ima kill you, motherfucker, Ima kill you. That's right (repeat)

cold wind blowing through some old trees

the choices still in front of me: loving you or dying by degrees

and ain't it something how the days pile up

you want to shoot down the world 'cause it's never enough and there's

too much that sounds like love

that only sounds like love

i am less than nothing without you

that's what they tell me

that's what they try to sell me

less than nothing without you

but. babe, where would you be

without me

believing?............................

From 'Buster's a Good Dog'

.... he wants to have sex with everything he sees

but Buster's a good dog.

he won't do that..........

And so on. All my recording stuff burned so right now it's just me banging on the PRS and hollering at the dogs but sooner or later there'll be another record - this one w/the working title of 'god bless america'. Lower case intentional.

tb

Posted by: timbyrnes at 02:26 | link | comments (6)

A Cowardly & Superstitious Lot: The Gospel According to Batman

   Lately, w/the tragic death of Heath Legder, many local and cable channels have been showing every movie he's ever made except for 'Brokeback Mountain, of course, gay cowboys being verboten anywhere west of NY, east of LA or to the left of an enlightened mind. But that's not the issue, at least not right now, but seeing all the Ledger deathnews I found that he had completed the next Batman movie, 'The Dark Knight' playing, of all things, The Joker.

     So, homicidal maniac, OK, but keep those gay cowboys to yrself. Again, that's not why I'm here. I wanna talk about Batman.

     Before anyone gets crazy I realize that Batman is a fictional character who has gone thru many revisions in his 60 plus years in print. But it is the concept of the character, especially in his earliest appearances (say, up until Robin was introduced in 1940 and of course Frank Miller's groundbreaking 'Dark Knight Returns' in 1986) that I find so attractive.

     Dig: the 11 yr old scion of a wealthy industrialist sees both his parents murdered in cold blood in a street robbery. Turning his grief and anger outward, for a change, the boy grows into an obsessed adult w/access to the money and technology to outfit himself w/all sorts of high tech gear and exotic martial arts training among other specialized training regimens. He discovers a natural cave under his stately manor to use as a headquarters and is, in the beginning, aided only by Alfred Pennyworth, who Miller classically described thusly: "... and blessed w/a butler trained in combat surgery." Yeah it's ridiculous. He's a hero ( NOT a superhero, there's a difference!) and all heroes are a little ridiculous. Feet of clay on pedestals, kill yr idols etc. But what gets me about Bruce is the darkness imbued in what's ordinarily (and often quite incorrectly) a 'children's character'. Take away the costume. utility belt, Batmobile/plane/cycle etc. and whattaya got? A psychotic obsessive stalking the streets, taking the law into his own hands, reclaiming his stretch of turf for those he declaims decent from those he declaims indecent. And, I guess if we take away the cars bikes and boats he'd be doing it on foot. So, what the hell, let a brother have his Batmobile.

    What I love especially is the paradox: a defender of law who beaks the law. The vigilante mindset given free reign and unlimited financing all in the service of an impossible revenge. That this legend had been despoiled, 1st by the godawful '60s tv series and a string of failed movies dating back to 1989 (the closest thing I've seen to a Batman movie that captured the tone of the way I see the character was 'The Crow', the 1st one w/Brandon Lee) is a shame in that I think it trivializes, if not, the essence of humanity than certainly of America. Destroying the village to save it; the power of the will supersceding the rule of law and, my favorite: violence solving everything.

     Before the Comics Code and 'Destruction of the Innocent' (look 'em up) saddled him w/a teenage sidekick and sucked all the character's blood in the name of 'decency' Batman was a motherfucker! I'm talking throwing crooks off of buildings, shooting up everything in sight and returning murder w/murder. While I firmly believe in 'thou shalt not kill' I have to admit it's a hell of a fantasy. Right making might dressed in black, kicking ass and taking names.

     The violent antihero to my mind provides a wonderful service to mankind by allowing an avenue for the violent fantasies we all have. Whether it's Bruce Willis dying hard or, say, the wrestlers of the WWE or, as in my case, the Batman, the need for a vehicle for the collective revenge jones runs deep and to the ends of the earth.

     About 18 or so years ago, a rehab group I was in went on a field trip to the Cartoon Museum in Rye, NY. You can't make this shit up, can you?  Anyway, one of the exhibits was a costume worn by Michael Keaton in the 1989 movie. As Keaton is only something like 5'8", 5'9" the effect was less than terror striking in my heart. But the Batman is not a suit or even a cartoon. The Batman is a spirit, a yearning in the heart for something resembling fair play and, yes, a spirit willing to kill the right people if neccessary to achieve it's goals. Bigger than us all is this spirit, and right now it's ticking like a timebomb in schools, homes and offices (and convenience stores!) across this once great nation of ours.

     Batman lives and no dead psychotic gay cowboy murderer of the mind can stop him.

tb

Posted by: timbyrnes at 02:12 | link | comments (3)

The Unfairness of Toothpaste

    It appears that even the denial of the career alcoholic has it's limits. From what I remember from my rehab loss and grieving classes there are like 7 stages to this shit, right? (And don't those rehab, and other 'experts, love lists? It's like "Of course we're experts! We have lists don't we? Now shut up and do as we say!" But I digress) The 1st of which is supposedly denial.

     Well, I'll willing to give 'em that.

    

     Next up is supposed to be anger. Well,I've been practicing that one for 50 years, so let's rock. Now I'm not gonna disavow that last post. No, I am still grateful and amazed by the goodness that surrounds me and, Lester knows, I don't want to screw up anyones's answered prayers but I woke up this morning (bah- DAH- duh-duh) and was nothing but pissed.

     And all I could do was think about it until it was all my fault.

     Hmmmmm. There's a telling statement. Let's work this jerky, shall we?

     For every thought I release into the greymaze that says "I'm lucky to be alive w/my kids and guitar intact. It could have been worse." there's  another one whispering "Settin' the bar a mite low, aren'tch Sparky?". For every time I'm genuinely touched by a box of dishes, towels etc. left anonymously at my door there's this evil little bitch in my brainpan hissing shit like "Check it, man, real people can give away better shit than you ever had." or "They're only helping you 'cause yr a pathetic failure."

     Now I don't believe her. Not really. Not all the time. But she's always there, just waiting to get her chance behind the wheel.  I've spent the last 5 days trying to rid myself of the idea that my house burned because I'm a bad person. I haven't been successful. I've felt, alongside major gratitude, guilt and shame for needing charity from the community. Notice I didn't type 'my' community. I'm not there yet. I actively refuse to belong to much other than failure (and the greatest barband in the world) and have no idea why.

     For the sake of endless, useless argument, let's assume there's a god. Part of me thinks she blessed me and part of me thinks she missed me. But it doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't even matter what you think. What is, is. Yours, mine, theirs and oursand theirs. But no matter how many books we read or not. No matter how good or evil we are to one another in the end, we are all alone. And 95% of 'mine' currently sits in smolders not 300 yards away, my frightened cats dancing through the ashes.

     But I should be happy, right? Right?

     Well, fuck you!.

     5 stages to go...........................

Posted by: timbyrnes at 01:10 | link | comments (20)

Fire in the Whole

    What is today? Thursday? Right. Well, it was Monday morning round about 10. Me and my bassplaying buddy Kenny were having a cup of coffee at the Quickee's Convenience store where I work when my neighbor Steve came in and told me my house was on fire.

    A quick 4 block drive later I'm standing outside the burning shell of my home, pretty much repeating the F word over and over. Don't worry, though, the cats all got out a back window and Buster and Sara were rescued by our local firefighters. Sara, bless her heart my 14 year old hardlife baby, needed oxygen on scene, but is alive and well, albeit a little dusty.

    Truth be told they both look like they both look like they've been shot out of cannons. Once I knew the kids were ok I both relaxed and allowed myself to freakout at the same time. But a funny thing happened. I turned around and saw the concerned faces of my friends, who I had no idea had showed up. My sister appeared out of nowhere. My landlord gave me the keys to my new apartment, #9 in the same facility. My neighbors came out w/dishes and bowls and petfood and leashes and within a half hour my babies were walked, fed and sleeping on new blankets in our new home.

     My guitar, bass and amp survived, singed but intact. In fact they all (especially the amp) look cool as hell with that smokedamaged funkvibe that players spen years trying to achieve!

    In the last few days I have been repeatedly stunned and humbled by the generousity of the people of my town. People I don't even know are leaving boxes of things outside my place, my friends and family seems to be greater than I ever imagined and you can believe I'm feeling pretty shitty about all that crap I've spouted about the 'innate evil' of human nature. As the poet once said "You need a good calamity to set you straight".

     I'm still in a little shock I think and will most likely be ranting about the unfairness of toothpaste before too long but right now I feel lucky to be alive (That's right, I said it!) and am still processing the whole mess. And while I've lost things (My Stooges LP!, My Velvets bootlegs!) I think I've gained yards more in terms of perspective and a better appreciation of life and my fellow man.

   See y'all soon, I gotta go buy like everything. But I'll be smiling as I do.

tb

    

Posted by: timbyrnes at 17:13 | link | comments (2)