just made to the end of the week--and the end of another month's work. the delegation that had been in town is taking off on sunday, i'll be hanging out with them in the morning doing a city tour, then will be heading to my aunt for a family iftar (which in itself putting every religious holy mumbo jumbo aside is a very spiritual and loving thing--the way you wait for the warm pide and the butter, the way you watch about 12 plates being filled and refilled, everyone at the table, older boys usually pouring out the drinks, rest goofing around, cathcing up and all--cozy family gathering). i never realized i actually liked those crap so much, till this year plans changed and my grandma's annual one got cancelled, and all of a sudden it all seemed terribly sad.
then sunday will be visiting a friend over at one of the islands, which i'm thinking will be a great event, a very mixed group of people will be involved. the girl with the curls is back home, and i'll be seeing her lovely face again and the act of eating ice cream with her which seemed so distant and impossible when she was gone will happen, hopefully, and two lovely friends from work who are just slowly grasping the myserious turkish world and my in between cultural confusion will also join us--and a third one too actually whom i just met today, who from the moment you see her reminds of some woodstock traveler, and who have proven me in thinking so by telling us how she took off at 5 30 in the morning and walked around town on her own, in back alleys and all--so that all should be fun. we'll see.
don't think i'm slacking off on the sixties week. my computer at home is now finally a senior citizen, poor things takes 5 hours to just get turned on, so i usually end up not waiting for it after i come home from work, beat and tired. but that doesn't mean i haven't been thinking about it, especially with occasional the doors tracks, smiling to myself on the bus thinking there is a certain way to see beauty and whatnot and noticing newer details in taking woodstock like how lang and the gang always pays cash (which i'd like to take as a reaction towards the evil banking world--cash is easy and decisive and it rarely ever bites you in the ass). but most of all i've been thinking about the way the fifties evolved to be the sixties, or more precisely how anything evolves into anything--you know, people, movements, revolutions etc. and that wilentz book excerpt which i enjoyed so dearly has also contributed to that one way or the other.
truth of the matter is i came down with a decision, but i won't share that for now--for i am saving that one for the big finale (i'm guessing, on monday, i won't have time on weekend to do so).
anywho--what i wanted to talk about today was something--well, someone--i wanted to talk about ever since the idea of the sixties popped into my head--or more accurately someone i wanted to talk about for ages since the first day i heard him roar "a red-headed woman..." in the most beautiful way (that line--though one of the most powerful lines of my life--i only have a vague notion on the words, they are not really clear to me) so the sweet, tough man of my inspirational pool: dave van ronk.
i met him through dylan, lemme get that out first. first time i saw him was on no direction home but i'd like to think that we've grown on each other over time. as i do often i had heard about him a few times, peeking my interest, and one day finally got my hands on one of his albums. then on another one. and my admiration for the man just grew.
now i don't know much about the background of his songs--i know that he usually arranges traditional tunes, i've seen him do a few covers (including buckets of rain)but van ronk's voice is so magical, otherworldy and beautiful that he is one of those--hang on, the only one, in fact--that could make me possibly not worry or care too much about what the words are about. and that is saying a lot for a poet wannabe like me. his tone is soft and grand, bluesy and cheerful, fatherly and flaming at the same time and he has this talent of mastering the songs so differently that you feel like they all of sudden have a reason to exist.
but besides that heavenly voice there is this warm humanity in dave van ronk that just gets to you. there is a feeling of safety and affection not only in his tone but also in his appearance--i do really wish i had known about him before he passed away in 2002, i mean i love and listen and read a lotta people who are dead and buried, but i do honestly and truly wish that in some different plot of events i could have known about him sooner and that we could have met.
dylan describes him as the "big surly guy" who looked like "he'd come from the Russian embassy"--which is different that the feeling i got from van ronk, but also amusing, considering anything involving the word "russian" in it makes me giggle--and i kinda know exactly what dylan means when he says that. then again he met the guy, hung out with him, played with him whereas i did none of the above. so i don't really get a say on that.
anyhow, if you like music, you should listen to dave van ronk. if you play music, you have to listen to dave van ronk. but overall if you're looking for another reason why and how people exist, and looking for something to warm up the pit of your stomach--if you enjoy humanity and what it has to offer--then i say give him a try. don't see it solely as a sixties thing. think of it on its own.
anyways i got way too excited over this one. i had posted wanderin' here before and mentioned it a couple of times so i honestly don't think i need to do so again. but i'll try to add a few songs when i get home. i'll post here the review i wrote on him months ago, a few weeks after the first time i had heard his just dave van ronk.
http://whatthedeadpoetsaid.blogspot.com/2010/05/traditional-tunes-part-i-just-dave-van.html
so keep on wanderin' lovers. i'll be back.
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