Suffering The Benz – Page 153 – Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right

I remember my first brush with Mardi Gras. I was living on the Florida Panhandle in the mid-’80s, and my girlfriend at the time greeted me at the door, a colorful Medusa of plastic beads with a drink in her hand.

“It’s Mardi Gras,” she slurred.

“Huh?”

As a recovering Yankee Catholic, I knew about Ash Wednesday, Mardi Gras’ dour doppleganger where we smear ashes on our heads to remind ourselves that we’re mere mortals, born in sin, composed of dust. But those damned Eastern European Catholics never taught me about the cool part. Fat Tuesday. An orgy of fun before embarking on the ashes and self-deprivation of Lent. Needless to say, I learned fast and Mardi Gras is now one of my favorite holidays, right up there with Dia de los Muertos.

And for some reason, I’m feeling much more of a need to connect with Mardi Gras this year. I started Sunday with a bloody mary, a fire and Cubanismo’s “Mardi Gras Mambo.” It’s been pretty much a blur of Professor Longhair, Jelly Roll Morton

Jorma, the Syncopated Taint, Bruce and a Mule

It’s been a while since I posted a note about the music I’m stumbling across, so here’s a quick rundown of some stuff that’s worth checking out. Some of it’s new. Some of it’s just new to me. But it’s all stuff that I have on heavy rotation …

Jorma Kaukonen, “River of Time“ — Love this CD and it’s now in heavy rotation on my iPod. WNCW in North Carolina started playing it almost as soon as it was released, and I downloaded it as soon as I heard it. I’ve been a fan of Jorma for a long time and, as a member of Jefferson Airplane, he was a catalyst for the great False Class Consciousness debate of 1983 (ask Joanne for the gory details). Jorma’s fingerpickin’ is as fresh as ever, and there’s a nice cover of the Dead’s “Operator” on here. What are you waiting for? Snap it up.

Bruce Springsteen, “Working on a Dream“ — Generally speaking, I’m not a big Springsteen fan. I definitely appreciate his talent, but for some reason he never really resonated with me. I’m ashamed to admit I passed on several opportunities to see him live in the late ’70s. He just wasn’t metal enough for my taste at the time. But in watching the Steelers’ glorious sixth Super Bowl victory, I was blown away by Springsteen’s halftime performance. In fact, there were tears in my eyes. There was just something beautiful there. Something intrinsically American that roared through the TV in high-def splendor. I heard an interview with Springsteen on Fresh Air not too long ago where he talked about how Republicans had latched on to his songs to promote their causes, and Terry Gross seemed perplexed by it. But Springsteen explained it beautifully. While the choruses in his music are full of hope and optimism, the verses contain the darker, more turbulent ideas. It’s easy to latch on to “Born in the U.S.A.” as a great American anthem. But when you start to dissect the verses, it’s not really the flag waving, feel-good exercise the casual listener would think. Got in a little hometown jam/ So they put a rifle in my hand/ Sent me off to a foreign land/ To go and kill the yellow man/ Born in the USA … “Working on a

Getting goosed