Monday, February 18, 2008
I was setting here at the table overlooking the expansive, leaf-strewn yard when my pal Rob said, "Hey man, a hawk just landed in the tree out there." And he pointed the hawk out to me and sure enough, it was a hawk. How very rad.*
It also reminded me of something else-- the fact that, in the last several months, I've plunged with headlong ferocity into the spiraling Hawkwind vortex. I'm talking the Space Ritual/Doremi Fasol Latido/Hall of the Mountain Grill/Warrior on the Edge of Time-era windowpane acid shaman music. Why now? That's what we must always ask ourselves. There must be something about their Michael Moorcock-inspired foggy dirges that appeal to me so acutely right NOW. I could just chill with the back cover of "Hall of the Mountain Grill" and a bottle of sake for a minute. I love the way those city lights are twinkling off in the distance in the lap of those purple mountains. And the moon hanging lazy up in the sky, like the kid brother moon of Herbie Hancock's "Sextant" moon. This is some Mervyn Peake shit.
The culmination of my Hawkwind obsession, thus far, has been the purchase of a pin (for $10) that says "Hawkwind U.K. Tour Winter '73/74" and then "Have A Good Time." I pinned it (appropriately, perhaps) to my black leather coat.
*Some addendums: While jogging, I saw an owl up in a tree looking down at me. She was huge, and dead serious. I was honored, but seriously hoped she didn't sink her claws into me.
When I told my postman (see earlier post) that I was into Hawkwind, he was like, "Ah, you mean like 'Space Ritual' and 'Doremi Fasol Latido'?" He never ceases to amaze me.
I found an awesome copy of the New Lost City Ramblers' "Remembrance of Things to Come" (adorned by Robert Frank's beautiful photo of the band) yesterday for $4.