I haven’t offered up so much as a peep here regarding music. The realization comes as a bit of a surprise, as it’s not just a favorite topic of mine. It’s a path not chosen.
And with that, I toss up a nugget of lyrics that Mr. iPod Shuffle served for my listening pleasure, a snippet of funk-wisdom (I coin a term, but, alas, it’s redundant) from Chucklehead: Boston funk-groove-jam-rock – circus-theater outfit from the 90’s. It was my head-bobbing delight to catch these guys at every opportunity when I was living in Portland, ME. Imagine a bootyshake-inducing groove, populated liberally with fat horn lines and these really meaty, rich, angular jazz harmonic sensibilities, replete with chords that go up to eleventh. Shit, I loved that band.
Anyhow, here’s what popped up on my iPod:
Chucklehead: “Headlites” from Belly Up, 1997, Wonderdrug Records
take a look at where you are
where you are is what you are
nothing you can do but keep on groovin’ in your body car
what you think you gonna find way out front
or way behind
give yourself a break my friend
take a breather from your mind
And, tonight, that’s all I got. I like my low end fuzzy, and my thirds flatted. No wisdom offered here, no snark, no key to unlocking the challenges of sustainability, no secret recipes, no serving sugestions at all. Just a chunk of lyric from a band that a lot of people really should have heard of but never got the chance.