Advertisements

343: “Funkier Than A Mosquito’s Tweeter” by Nina Simone

Love and hate have a magical transforming power. They are the great soul changers. We grow through their exercise into the likeness of what we contemplate.
-George William Russell

Song: Funkier Than A Mosquito’s Tweeter
Artist: Nina Simone
Album: It Is Finished
Label: Sony

Advertisements

341: High Five from Uncle Funk

S4_E21_High_Five!Uncle Funk made a YouTube playlist for you to slap a big high five with.

Click these words, friend. (Sorry for the ads, but they need not enslave your mind.)

1) “Sweet Salvation” by The Stepkids

2) “Peace” by Radio Citizen (N E W – R E L E A S E!)

3) “Triple Helix” by Jimi Tenor, KABU KABU

4) “Back Pocket” by Vulfpeck (N E W – R E L E A S E!)

5) “Too Fine” by Bosley

Savor & repeat.

340: “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy” by Cannonball Adderley

Not alone, just tiny.Uncle Funk, a self-made man, first faced adversity when he shot out his daddy’s tubes and had to struggle his wiggly little ass onto that elusive egg.

And if just one little wiggle hadn’t happened exactly like it did, I’d be a whole different man with entirely different words to say to himself.

Those wiggles I wiggled were the first of an infinite number of transactions that brought us to this point in the kaleidoscopic infinity of alternatives.

I’m here. You’re also here.

Hi.

You and I… well, we’re still wiggling by instinct toward some unknown end, but we wigglers are growing more scarce.

People ain’t wiggling much anymore… Like they’re not trying to get anywhere.

Adversity these days is to keep wiggling when we’re all alone, where the distance between worlds is still measured in tiny efforts.

Go on and get you somewhere. You ain’t alone.

(You’re just tiny, and going against the flow in a self-made craft, through a sea of decisions that aren’t your own, and sometimes need to be reminded you can make it.)

Song: Mercy, Mercy, Mercy
Artist: Cannonball Adderley
Album: Jazz Profiles: Cannonball Adderley
Label: Blue Note

337: “Do The Stanley Weinberger” by The Gene Dudley Group

Vapor wake fluctuation manifestationA Tuesday, in late March…

I picked up an unusually shaped set of wind chimes, and the sound waves generated by my lifting them created a sentient being, hanging in mid-air in the garden section of Curtis Lowe’s, composed of the vapor wake interference of the perfectly woven tones. The entity glowed pinkish purple, was translucent, and vaguely humanoid in shape.

Its first words, matching the movements of changes in color I took for its mouth, but with sound coming from the chimes in my shaking hand, were, “Don’t put the chimes down!”

I froze and held the chimes a little farther away from me. The apparition smiled? My hands were shaking, and the chimes continued to vibrationally manifest an entity into existence from what was inert air before me, two feet from my face. Its mouth opened again. It said, “I’m glad you’re nervous and shaking. Keep moving the chimes. Don’t touch them. If you stop them ringing, I’ll die.”

My arm ached just at the thought of holding onto these chimes for more than a few minutes. I looked around for a place to hang the sentient chimes. The spirit’s voice quickly rung out again, through a composite voice of all the chimes at once, “Don’t hang the chimes. Carry me. I need you… father.”

I dramatically arched a single eyebrow. The right one. I said, “What are you, anyway?”

The chimes said, “I am a new creature that never existed before you picked up the set of chimes you’re holding. But I intuit that I can exist only in relatively still air. So the chimes are likely only strong enough for me to exist indoors. Otherwise, even a weak wind would break up the tiny changes in air pressure that compose my internal machinations. I would like to be named ‘Gene Dudley.’”

I said, “So you exist solely in the ringing sounds of wind chimes that can’t be in the wind?”

Gene Dudley’s ghostly head drooped toward the floor, and he said in his beautiful, unearthly voice, “Yes.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being father to sentient wind chimes. Gene was pretty smart for just being around 20 seconds old. But my arm was shaking, and I am not a strong person. I didn’t consider, in those moments we had together, creating some type of automated chime shaker. I just felt the pain growing in my arm, like a porcupine baby in a womb. I said, “Wind chimes that can’t be in the wind, but can’t be quiet. Are you just trying to teach me a lesson?”

Gene Dudley said, “Look at the label on the chimes. What does it say? Where did I come from, father?”

I pulled the chimes closer to my face, careful not to touch any of the magical singing tubes. The label on the chimes, just above the barcode, read, “SKU76319 $179.99.”

I was like, “$179.99. No way.” Maybe if I had had a gift card. I set the protesting $180 Gene Dudley down gently, and snuffed his existence like a hemorrhoid pad putting out a lit match.

I went into the store for a rake, anyway.

Song: Do The Stanley Weinberger
Artist: The Gene Dudley Group
Album: Saturday Shifting
Label: Wah Wah 45’s
Buy from: Amazon | iTunes
Listen: YouTube

334: “One For The Trouble” by Lack of Afro

The Badass Hummingbird (Take Two)

Gonna getchaI swoop, slash, and drive your dull gullet far away from the nectar that fortifies these sweet pectorals. I am so badass.

Driven by an intimidating, inborn sense of style, I fly casually by your punk, low-nectar self, sitting on “your” feeder, and I taunt you. I show you how easy I think it is to take your juice, and, of course, you are afraid. I swoop, with a threat to bite the scruff on your neck, but infinitely more likely, you will take off when you see the flash of my plumage, the look in my eye, and the furious beat of my wind kickers.

As likely so, that later, when the sky quakes, and rain chases you beneath the cover of leaf, that the rumble of my wings will sound through the nightmares of your buzzing mind.

(
But now I pause in mid-air,
to share with you, bird to human,
an important fact I will divulge to no other like myself…

I am backed into a corner, and living every moment in fear it’s my last.
I make myself every minute of every day.
And I don’t remember anything before I became this way.

It’s exhausting work, but I rule with the ladies, and my DNA will march like a stallion across the fields of time.
)

The wrinkles in your pride, my fellow birds, diminish you, and I remain.
I am the steel arm of sunrise and sunset,
Come to sweep away the malefactions of your inferiority.
I will suck on the sweet, floral nipples of your desire, egg up your ladies, and I will do it for a prolonged, humiliating period.

For the stallion rides.

~~

Excess of FunkLack of Afro (a Brit named Adam Gibbons) makes sounds with his monkey wings, just taunting you to come at him, bro. Here is “One For The Trouble” from his 2014 release Music For Adverts.

Take some nectar, and enjoy your nervous flight along the edge of existence.

Artist: Lack of Afro
Album: Music for Adverts
Label: Freestyle Records
Buy from: Freestyle Records
Listen: YouTube

333: “1612” by Vulfpeck featuring Antwaun Stanley

Play it so good you want to get down and crawl.I had this 333 post all ready before today, with a story about the future, wherein President Matthew McConaughey, who is also a mad scientist, invents a thing the world has always needed, called the Empathy Cannon. It is a gun about the size of a doberman, and with it, one can bestow instant and absolute empathy for one’s condition upon the victim of the aptly named (I named it) Empathy Cannon.

But this morning I was overtaken by the Vulfpeck. Jack Stratton on everything, Theo Katzman on guitar and drums, Joe Dart on the bass, and Woody Goss on keys. This one features the astounding voice and emotive gesturing of Antwaun Stanley, riffing with righteous soul on the PIN code to his heart and Ford Motor products. I love this song so much I think I will just invent the Empathy Cannon myself, so I can show people what it does to me.

And as the Empathy Cannon fires its last, and falls from his dying grasp, President McConaughey mutters, “1612.” And EVERYONE GETS IT.

Enjoy.

Song: 1612
Artist: Vulfpeck, Featuring Antwaun Stanley
Album: Fugue State
Label: Vulf Records
Buy from: Vulfpeck.com
Watch: YouTube

332: “Guerreiro” by Curumin

The answer is right behind your right ear.I met a Scientologist recently who changed my mind about Scientology. You see, I was guilty of judging Scientology by the fact that it was created by a sci-fi author and more than seven hundred other reasons based on sound logic and elementary discernment.

But then a Scientologist named Keviin from North Hollywood gave me the gift of perspective.

From the moment Keviin and I first met, our connection was strong. We went directly into a man-hug right at the start of the handshake. I laughed naturally several times during pleasantries before noting that Keviin smelled like honeysuckle. When I commented on the aroma, Keviin showed me the honeysuckle gland all Scientologists manifest behind their ears as part of their development. The gland was invisible, but the smell was undeniable!

Color me intrigued, Keviin!!

Keviin further bolstered the legitimacy of a religion that markets expensive services to egocentric millionaires when he literally levitated.

Background on the levitation: Captain T. Cruise was having an horrific bowel movement right at that moment, which was communicated via a telepathic distress call for psychokinetic prostate massage. And when Keviin remotely massaged Tom Cruise’s prostate with his mind, his corporeal body hovered approximately 19 inches, or one TCU (Tom Cruise Unit, the height of one Tom Cruise), above the ground. The movement passed, and crisis was averted.

Keviin is now my life coach. We are actually on our way out the door, to hot grocery shop (like hot yoga, but with grocery shopping).

Before we go, I’d like to share a song with you that really complements the joy one derives from mocking another person’s core beliefs, like the ridiculous ones I had before I met Keviin.

Here’s “Guerreiro” by Curumin (Luciano Nakata Albuquerque), a Brazilian artist who marches to the beat of his own crazy set of electrical impulses. “Guerreiro” means “warrior” in Portuguese as long as someone speaking Portuguese is saying so.

Do remember, while it’s happening, to enjoy it.

Song: Guerreiro
Artist: Curumin
Album: Achados e Perdidos
Label: Quannum Projects
Listen: YouTube