RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Wednesday, September 7

SONG OF THE DAY: All Cried Out

Pro wrestling as it exists now (bunch of comic book dorks acting like they’re tough with each other) is pretty bad, as is the genre of singer-songwriters (bunch of art school dropouts acting like they’re tough). But I like to imagine in my mind that the two worlds crossed over, and in order to be called a “singer-songwriter”, it meant you had to go wrestle somewhere in southern Appalachia, and Richie Havens had been imbued with the spirit of Porkchop Cash, but also a bit of the violence of Abdullah the Butcher, and anyone wanting to claim singer-songwriter status had to get through a blood feud with Richie Havens, culminating in a barbed wire cage match, but not a nice cage but one of those raggedy ass ones made of 2x4s with the barbed wire sort of staple gunned to the whole thing, so it was all very precarious and fucked up but perfect. I mean, that’s the essence of a good singer-songwriter too, instead of being some suburban jack ass who dabbled in punk music in their youth but now wants to think of themselves as working class so has ironic Nascar flags. Time machine Porkchop Cash Richie Havens BURNS YOUR FUCKING FAKE ASS Nascar flags, and then throws the warm ashes into your eyes.

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