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.

Tuesday, June 20


To be honest, I am not a lonely man, but when you get to the age I do, it’s good practice to listen to music like this as reverse manifestation. The Universe is a trickster, and I’m a contrarian, so we have to use double reverse psychology on each other, until it gets so muddied up, nobody’s sure how to be disagreeable with nobody else, and we all just kinda ease on into the lounge of it all.

Wednesday, June 14


I was pretty shocked a Boz Scaggs song was this damn funky, but in googlifying some info for a blurb (uninspired behavior), I discovered that originally, John Travolta was dancing to this song in Saturday Night Fever, but Columbia Records refused to license the song since it was in another disco movie. Thus, “Staying Alive” got thrown in and the Bee Gees blew the fuck up. This song is way sicker than anything by someone called Boz Scaggs should ever be (no dis to any Bozzes out there). But here we are. (Spoiler alert: good chance the 45 at 33 version of this song – which I love to spin – is gonna show up as Song of The Day pretty soon, too, pulling the rare Rojonekku Song of The Day Double.)

Tuesday, June 13

SONG OF THE DAY: Going Back to Bed

Few songs truly get the Greater Appalachian hillbilly mindset, but this one does it and does it well. Fuck all those people talking about bootstraps – that’s bossman talk. Never trust a man who lived in a gold-plated apartment in a big ass city.

Monday, June 12

SONG OF THE DAY: Let The Music Play (kudzu'd)

This might be my favorite track to play slow in my patented 45s at 33 style. (It’s not actually patented, lol fuck the law and fuck paperwork.) I have 3 excellent copies of this 45 and probably another 4 or 5 that are pretty good, and I dream of hooking all my turntables up in a circle and playing them all in sequence and just spinning around, letting the music play, slowly, while lavender sage stick burns, summoning the spirit of Shannon herself, who shall appear before me and usher in a bold new age of everybody chilling the fuck out. Finally.

Saturday, June 10

SONG OF THE DAY: Wondering

Fences are assholes, and one of my favorite asshole fences, for all it represents, is the fake ass wrought iron fence along the train yard in Belmont, Charlottesville, which separates an old part of the yard with a coal tower where delinquents used to fuck around until a teenage girl got killed there years ago, from the actual still operational yard. The coal tower stretch has been a road for a while and now all these expensive ass townhouses and an "urban living" apartment building have gone up, and the fence keeps everybody jogging along the bike path safe from whatever vagrancy or minimal industry might still be going on in the barely functional yard. And Belmont is starting to creep in closer on the other side as well, from the southern end, with the old office building there being renovated into apartments, and the houses in that part rising in value at a crazy rate. Won't be long until another fence goes up most likely. I find it hilarious to an extent, because all the folks living good comfortable lives for the most part, at least financially, in those new townhouses and all, don't want the industrial blight, perpetuating this myth that all the hard work to have a society is just magically done by unseen elves (the poor) that keep everything functioning smoothly in the exceptional way America was god blessed. A few blocks over, there's a giant mural of the train yard done by a Richmond artist, hearkening back to an older era when people actually had jobs in train yards. There's other murals like that nearby (and anywhere that's being gentrified from old industrial abandonment zone to new thriving renamed neighborhood in any city around America), probably a little brewery that's popped up too, with either the brewery or some of their beers named after defunct industries or local landmarks, pretending to honor the memory while actually just exploiting the ghosts they refuse to acknowledge. I pray that the trickster gods of working folks rise up from the creosote dust left behind from their existence, and haunt these assholes by blowing through that asshole fence. We no longer have wrong side of the tracks, because everything's been settled so long, but we most definitely still got wrong side of the fence, everywhere. One side, you're good, but on the other, you're a threat. And your politics don't matter at all, to be honest. It's just what you're born into.

Friday, June 2

SONG OF THE DAY: Fantastic Voyage (kudzu'd)

Been imagining having a broken spaceship a lot lately, like back in the woods behind the crib, getting grown over with kudzu and shit, but I hack the kudzu off the door with my machete regularly, and go inside the spaceship, and try to get it running, but I’m missing a kerfufflic coil or something, so it turns over but doesn’t fly. Thus, I’ve been thinking about great songs to listen to in the spaceship, because I imagine it would have 7 nice subs in it, positioned according to universal magnetics to create a golden ratio of thump. This is definitely on the playlist (as you’d expect).