RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Thursday, May 5

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown - April '11 #10: "No Time For Dreaming" by Charles Bradley


Somewhere during the '80s, rhythm and blues music stopped having so much blues influence and started becoming more of a pre-fabricated form of music, like a sub-genre of pop, complete with short shelf life and tons of one hit wonders. Fast forward to a few years back when Sharon Jones hopped a time machine from 1967 and was like, "Fuck yall motherfuckers, this is how you sang a goddamned song." Of course the music industry being shady as hell, the internal response was, "Oh snap, this lady is pure fire. Let's find some kinda rough looking but kinda cute-ish british girl to do this style, and if she gets eat up by the industry and turns into a ridiculous drug addict, oh well, we still stay paid." And that's how Amy Winehouse became famous, with Sharon Jones Dap-King band backing her scrawny rockabilly fan looking ass all across America. That's some cold shit. But Sharon Jones is still sanging, so it ain't no thang.
Fast forward to I guess last year or something, when that time machine fired up again, or they pulled Charles Bradley out of some sort of time capsule they found in Piedmont North Carolina, and he popped out, wiped the cornbread crumbs off his button down lavender shirt, and was like, "I got a song for yall motherfuckers." And this was that song.
I took my oldest two kids to Record Store day and at one record store what which had awesome records at non-normal dude like me prices, the shopkeep gave both my kids a Daptone Records mix, so we popped it in the tape deck once we got back in my dilapidated truck, them being excited somebody had just given them a CD, and the first thing to come out on the mixtape was Charles Bradley, and both my kids were like, "Daddy, this is that song you play at home," and they were amazed at how I had that shit locked down before it popped into their life from the outside. I ain't proud I write dumb music things inside the blogospheric pollution boxes, but I am pretty confident that my kids are gonna grow up and be like, "Damn, my old man used to listen to some crazy ass shit. I hope he don't notice how many of his records I took with me to college."
STEAL "No Time For Dreaming"
NEXT:
No time capsule soul, but straight up throwback Wes Unseld jersey with the stripes goodness!

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