Sunday music: Wonderlust King, Lela Pala Tute

Not the best cut from their latest CD, Super Taranta. But Eugene Hutz and Gogol Bordello put together a pretty good global road song here. I like the clips of gypsy musicians jamming and kids dancing from the forthcoming documentary, The Pied Piper of Hutzovina, due out in September. (View trailer.)

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So last Saturday, I tune in LiveEarth just in time to catch Madonna’s last song, the climax of at the London venue. Turns out, minutes before she had Hutz and another bandmate onstage to sing their traditional gypsy song, Lela Pala Tute. Broadcasting to hundreds of millions of people worldwide. And I missed it. Oh well. The Madonna big production number at LiveEarth wasn’t nearly as lovely as this version with Hutz singing in the backseat of a car.

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What I learned by watching LiveEarth

live earth australia logo

I’ve had LiveEarth — Al Gore’s climate crisis concert extravaganza — on in the background while blogging tonight. I’ve learned a few things:

  • Madonna plays a decent rhythm guitar.
  • Recycled tires and oil drums can be used to good effect as a stage background.
  • Kelly Clarkson has some pipes. (I had no clue she won American Idol. Maybe AI voters are smarter than I give them credit for.)
  • Red Hot Chili Peppers are, indeed, hot.
  • The Beasty Boys can still belt out Sabotage.
  • Drink enough gin and even Bon Jovi sounds pretty good.
  • Lenny Kravitz = Jimi Hendrix wannabe.
  • Bobby Kenedy would be great heading up EPA, but I already knew that.

I’m sorry I missed the Spinal Tap set featuring a performance of Stonehedge.

It’s easy to dismiss efforts such as these as all hype. But I don’t. I see the names of kids (mostly kids, I guess) scrolling across the screen who at least took the time to visit the LiveEarth website and took the LiveEarth pledge, and I’m encouraged. And I recall a similar concert more than 20 years ago, just about this time of year.

On July 13. 1985, Bob Geldof and Midge Ure’s LiveAid concert reached 1.5 billion people worldwide to raise funds for famine relief in Ethiopia.

I was a wired gardener back then, too. I remember weeding and listening along with the rest of the world on my cassette player/FM radio strapped to my belt, and realizing (while Phil Collins was singing “I can feel it coming in the air tonight … “) that the world had changed.

Is there still hunger in Ethiopia? You bet. But while I’m no fan of unfettered globalization, I’m glad that word travels faster and farther than it did just a generation ago. We’ve still got some work to do to make sure that that word is truth. But I, for one, am hopeful.

Look for Al to declare in October or November.

Updated/bonus track: So they could get a venue on every continent, LiveEarth included a pre-recorded performance by Nunatak — a garage band of British researchers in Antarctica. (Do they have garages in Antarctica?) They’re not bad, really — especially when you consider how cold their hands must be.

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Supertheory Of Supereverything

Super TarantaAcoustic version of a (very subversive) song from the gypsy punks’ forthcoming release (July 10) Super Taranta. String theory, religion and schizophrenia as only Gogol Bordello can do.

Approximate lyrics from mp3 of studio version (they’re different in live YouTube):

From the maelstrom of the knowledge
Into labyrinth of doubt
Frozen underground ocean
Melting milking on my mind
Kill me, everything theory
Without Nazi uniformity

Opening song from Bonaroo Festival last weekend.

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Anniversaries, gardening and otherwise

Dock Ellis baseball cardSome folks see June 12 on the calendar and they think, that’s the anniversary of the launch of GardenRant. (I sent good wishes and some music to get the hippie chicks dancing.) But the GR women share that anniversary with the that of the greatest feat in baseball history, if not all of athletics.

27 years ago today, June 12, 1970, Dock Ellis of the Pittsburgh Pirates pitched a no hitter against the San Diego Padres while he claims he was tripping on LSD.

Long story short: Dock was partying and got his days mixed up and took acid around noon, only to discover he was to pitch that night. (Keven McAlester tells the whole story artfully in the Dallas Observer.)

All my personal experience with Dock’s drug of choice comes only from reading. But I believe him based on his quote:

Sometimes the ball looked like a beach ball. Sometimes it looked like a dot.

Sure, he was more wild than usual, walking 8 and hitting a couple of batters. But you gotta admit, that had to be one wild trip.

The happy ending: Dock cleaned up his act and is now a prison drug counselor. In addition to sharing part of his name with this blog, if you listed his name as it might appear on a roster — last name first, first initial — it spells out the chemical that got the whole story started: Ellis, D.

Needless to say, he got an article in High Times magazine. But his accomplishment is also celebrated in a song by Chuck Brodsky, whose Casey-at-the-bat style lyrics are enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame, not far from here:

Dock Ellis’s No-No

Listen (mp3)

Go buy Chuck’s Baseball Ballads CD

It was a lovely summer’s morning
An off-day in LA
So thought one Dock Ellis
As he would later say
His girlfriend read the paper
She said, “Dock, this can’t be right…
It says here that you’re pitching
In San Diego tonight”

“Got to get you to the airport”
And so off Dock Ellis flew
His legs were a little bit wobbly
And the rest of him was too
Took a taxi to the ballpark
An hour before the game
Gave some half-assed explanation
Found the locker with his name

Time came to go on out there
Down the corridor
The walls were a little bit wavy
There were ripples in the floor
He went out to the bullpen
To do a bunch of stretches
Loosen up a little
Throw his warm-up pitches

All rose for the national anthem
People took off their hats
Fireworks were exploding
The cokes were already going flat
Dock was back there in the dugout
So many things to watch
Some players spit tobacco juice
Others grabbed their crotch

The umpire hollered, “Play Ball!”
And so it came to be
Dock’s Pirates batted first
And when they went down 1-2-3
Dock’s catcher put his mask on
And he handed Dock the ball
It was 327 feet
To the right & left field walls

The Pirates took the field then
And Dock stood on the rubber
He bounced a couple of pitches
And then he bounced a couple others
You might say about that day
He looked a little wild
The lead-off batter trembled
Nobody knew why Dock Ellis smiled

You walk 8 and you hit a guy
The things that people shout…
Especially your manager
But he didn’t take Dock out
Dock found himself a rythym
And a crazy little spin
Amazing things would happen
When Dock Ellis zeroed in

Sometimes he saw the catcher
Sometimes he did not
Sometimes he held a beach balll
Other times it was a dot
Dock was tossing comets
That were leaving trails of glitter
At the 7th inning stretch
He still had a no-hitter

So he turned to Cash, his buddy
Said, “I got a no-no going”
Speaking the unspeakable
He went back out there throwing
Bottom of the ninth
& He stood high upon the mound
3 more outs to go
He’d have his name in Cooperstown

First up was Cannizzaro
Who flied out to Alou
Kelly grounded out for Dean
The shortstop yelled, “That’s two”
It must’ve been a mad house
The fans upon their feet
The littler ones among them
Standing on their seats

Next up would’ve been Herbel
But Spezio pinch-hit
He took a 3rd strike looking
And officially, that was it
It was a lovely summer’s morning
An off-day in LA
So thought one Dock Ellis
As he would later say

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Honey, does this peplos make my butt look fat?

Venus KallipygosMuch discussion of sex and antiquities over at GardenRant this week.

Hank comments “Everything is sex. Either overt or covert. All sex. All the time.” (What, you can’t liveblog from Sweden Hank? They have ‘the internets’ over there I think. Or did you run into the Swedish Bikini Team?)

If I could afford it, I would buy classic statuary for my (less than formal) garden. But when I see Venus Kallipygos, I don’t feel a connection with the ancients based on sex. All I can hear is the most feared question a man is ever asked:

Honey, does this peplos make my butt look fat?

You can buy classic statues if you’ve got the bucks. (Page down. I have no clue why the golfer sorts to the top of that gallery. Ironic.) No thanks. I’m stuck with a pink flamingo (the kind with the spinning wings) and a bowling ball on a piece of rebar.

saronged statuaryI was searching for some images of the tacky modern nude garden statue crap that I remember gracing ads in gardening mags. You know the ones — a hybrid of Hustler and Gary Lee Price. Instead, I ran into this USAToday article Garden Center covers nude statues with velvet sarong.

Ummmm… Leave it to a Bible Belt nursery to make classic statues even more erotic in a tacky twins-in-bondage sort of way. (Yes. Sales increased and customers were caught peaking peeking.) Reminds me of John Ashcroft screening Lady Liberty.

In a perfect world, I’d have sculpture in my garden like what Nicole posted about in More Buddha Park. (She’s got another great slideshow of Asian garden sculpture and much more worth exploring over at her blog, A Carribean Garden.)

Lots more to blog about and lots of pent up pix to purge. But I’ve got to go make hay while the sun shines — or at least it’s not raining.

Update: Keeping with the classical them, Bill Kirchen (formerly of Commander Cody) is coming to town. His latest is ‘Hammer of the Honky Tonk Gods’ — a tribute to a Fender or one of those other classic guitars. I’m clueless, but I get his point:

It was born at the junction
Or form and function
It’s the hammer of the honky tonk gods.

Here’s a taste.

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