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.

Tuesday, May 17

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown - April '11 #5: "Hajme El Khali" by Kourosh Yaghamael


I am very self-aware of this being the internet and there being a vast world of wonderful music blogs out there that take a micro-genre and run with it and have every little 3x7 inch psych folk cumbia rebajada LSD jam from Bolivia's flourishing summer of 1975 scene possible. I do not try to be that. Especially because I've seen alleged "world music" dudes doing the hippie arm-waving dance in those Guatemalan zubaz pajama pants while rocking the same 9 world music styles that always get rocked, straight shot from Putamayo to where they are right there. Man, I can't ever be that; it ain't in me, even on a slightly molecular level. And I don't want to be a know-it-all malaria crate-digger who gets a passport stamped in five countries most folks never learned the capitol of, even in advanced prep classes. I'm just a dude who likes music and lets it fill every crack in my day that I can, and that's how it rolls. The J.J. Krupert thing sort of meandered into what it is when I inherited a 2gb Ipod shuffle and made it a survival of the fittest song battle royale that continues to this day. Having a new (to us) computer now with our massive library on it, plus some ghetto ass speakers rigged up to pump up the volume in the kitchen, I tend to have incorporated that in the song count as well nowadays, with vast battles of songs where I play two and eliminate one and do that over and over, and it expanded to multiple heats like a dirt track race with a main heat and loser songs earning their way into the final tourney and well... you get the point. I am a fucking dork, ruled by parametrics, and posting my fucking stupid fucking thoughts in a wide open maelstrom for strange eyeballs... man fuck it.
I think what I was building up to is that this song is some sort of Iranian psych folk song that I can't even remember where I found, probably one of those awesome blogs that I find and then lose all the time. But a couple weeks back, I was kinda over it all (as usual) and rolled down to Natural Bridge Speedway to sit on the hill and watch the cars run around on dirt in circles, coming from three states for the super late models, and it was great because it should've rained, and briefly did, but not enough to stop the races that night. Day turned to night, shit was loud, dirt went everywhere, and I drove home through the cold ass night, rainy and drizzly, and had to swing through a commune to pick up my daughter and her best friend who were at a dance party. This song came on and I played it like 5 times in a row, because it was perfect for that night. Picked up the kids, who were being shadowed by commune boys who listen to Eminem, and my naively sweet daughter and her naively sweet friend climbed in my truck, tired because it was almost midnight, and didn't feel like talking because they are tweens so they either don't want to admit what they were doing or think I'm on the outside of their world looking in or whatever it is, so they were silent in the dark, faces barely lit by blue light of the truck stereo receiver, and I pumped my J.J. Krupert. I skipped back to this song and played it loud as fuck, and they agreed it was awesome, even though none of knew what the words were saying, but we all got it. We fucking got it. So don't bother babelfishing or google translating "Hajme El Khali" because it is a Persian haiku poem that reads roughly "dirt races on mountains until dark, rain showers and thunder blanket me through the well-known paths of habit, until I am home again".
STEAL "Hajme El Khali"
NEXT:
Lowrider classics by actual Chicanos!

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