Music & la femmes fatales = deadly women

Vixen = female fox

Some people might wonder what folk, blues, country and rock singer Bob Dylan has in common with heavy metal rockers Jan Kuehnemund, Janet Gardner, Share Pedersen and Roxy Petrucci. They all are musicians, obviously, but no one would accuse Dylan of ever approaching a heavy metal sound with his songs. Well, not to drag on with the question, the answer is, Minnesota.

The four young ladies were part of the all-girl band, Vixen, which Kuehnemund started while still a high school student in Saint Paul. Please, now, do not go petty on me and say that this outfit's original name was not Vixen or that there were lineup changes over the years or that the band moved to Los Angeles before really hitting the big time. These were the primary members and Saint Paul was the band's birth place.

It came to me that while I have been touting music and musicians for a few days now, I had not tossed one of the all-female groups and/or individual performers into the mix. Well, here they are. I debated putting up a studio recording in which the sound is a bit better, or a live performance. A live performance always will be rougher than studio sound, but I went with a live concert from 1991 because it is evident how much fun these girls are having, which translates into a vibrant and exciting show.

In addition to this 1991 rendition, I also watched a few other versions, including a 2005 appearance in Sweden. My feeling while watching it was the same as I expressed a few days ago regarding Foreigner: Why do some people persist in continuing a career when their ability to perform has so visibly diminished?

There are millions of things to do in this world, so why, particularly in the case of those who work in the public eye, would so many continue to endure rather than leave the spotlight while they still are at the top of their game? Money and vanity, I suppose.

Whatever, here is a glimpse of Vixen at a time when these girls were among the elite of the hard rock world, performing undoubtedly the band's biggest song, "Living on the Edge of a Broken Heart."

By the way, take a look at the T-shirt Janet is wearing. "Scorpions." That is a girl with great taste in music.

The band is Vixen
The singer is Janet Gardner
The song is "Living on the Edge of a Broken Heart"



Where was I in the year 2000?

I know who Johnny Cash was; I know who Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson are. I might recognize a few other names should they be mentioned, but my knowledge of country music singers and songs is about as scant as that of anyone in the room.

The first time I heard this song, I thought it must be Dolly Parton. Who else could it be? Who else sings country? The song popped up on my truck radio as I was scanning for stations on a journey over unfamiliar roadways. In all probability, I did not hear it again for two or three years. Country Western, you know.

Somewhere along the line, however, I did learn the name of the song was, “I Hope You Dance,” by Lee Ann Womack, and that it had been a huge hit in 2000. What was I doing throughout the year 2000? Oh, yes. I remember. Never mind.

I did mention this singer and this song, and print some of the lyrics to it in one of my posts last March, and decided today to listen to it a few times once again. That this song is popular is evidenced by the fact that one YouTube version alone shows well over three million hits. In any case, Ms. Womack and her absolutely charming song seem like an excellent way to close out my week.

The band is unknown to me
The singer is Lee Ann Womack
The song is "I Hope You Dance"

Riding sea swells in Alexandria & more things

"Mountolive" is the third book of "The Alexandria Quartet"

Literature turns me into a Republican ....

Maybe more of this story will come back to me as I write it, but probably not. So what?

A few years ago, I was taking a graduate level course in literature. I cannot recall the name of the course, but it concerned novels and was British and European in nature. It was an evening class, in the summer, and there were about 25 students in attendance. Most were high school teachers looking for credits to use to jump up their salaries. One or two were grad teaching assistants (probably career grad assistants). One among the group was the village idiot, me, who thought the class might be more beneficial to me than an evening bowling or sitting in a bar. It is entirely possible I was the only person there because I actually wanted to be there. (Well, I never claimed to be perfect.)

One of the books we were reading was, "Mountolive," written by Lawrence Durrell. I mentioned him back when I listed my choices for the 100 best novels ever written. That seems so long ago, but I have not been writing on the blog even for two months yet so, I guess, it really was not that long ago.

Durrell, who may or may not have been an actual British citizen, was born in India and died in France. His works include, "The Alexandria Quartet," of which "Mountolive" was third in the series. Briefly, it tells the story of David Mountolive, a junior member of the British legation to Egypt, his love affairs, his work, his observations, his recollections.

I still have the book. I looked for it so I might refresh my memory, but could not find it. I do not have enough room for all my hardback books on my shelves, much less any paperbacks. Most of my books live in boxes where, although absent from me, are in the company of many other fine books and know that I do love them, still.

Back to topic. Our instructor, an elderly man whose body language indicated boredom and resignation, often read a few pages from the novel we were engaged with at the moment. Then, like good instructors everywhere, he asked we, his students, for interpretations. Again, without the ability to re-read the pages, I cannot recall the details precisely, but one evening he read about a boat -- maybe a punt, maybe a gondola, certainly not a canoe -- riding the waves on a lake or a river or whatever at sunset or sunrise or at 3:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time or whatever.

One of the high school teachers seeking a raise (pay, that is) volunteered that it was a perfect description of the sights and sounds one would experience if riding in or watching a boat moving across open water under a beautiful sky. I seem to recall another volunteering a similar opinion, differing mostly in the exact shade of color of the sky. Then, he who has an opinion about everything raised his hand. "I think Durrell is making a very detailed allusion to a man and a woman making love," said he. (Note the absence of crude language in his commentary.) He, who sat next to one of the career grad assistants, felt heads turn to look his way. (Some of the more subtle in the group only turning eye balls.)

He, who sees strange things when upon the water, went on to describe how he thought Durrell's description of a boat (whatever kind it was) rising and falling upon the water, with the movement of the currents and the spray of the water, etc., etc., etc., to be an allegorical description of love-making. (I really wish I could dig the book out of the pile to do justice to this commentary.)

After a few minutes of hemming and hawing and commenting about what an interesting interpretation "he," meaning me, had arrived at, we had an early dismissal, and each of us adjourned to our favorite establishments of liquid refreshment. No matter if my interpretation had any validity or not, it still fascinates me that the depth of some readers' perception goes no deeper than debating the shade of color an author has just described, especially when dealing with writers such as Durrell, who himself had said the quartet was his continuing investigation of modern love.

It was then, for the first time among the many conversions in my life, that I registered as a Republican, hoping that they, at least, knew the difference between a love scene and watching a boat bobbing in the water. Whether or not this conversion was a success is a story for another day. Canoes are magical things, are they not?

More things about more things ....

I almost bought a 40-foot sailboat to live on when I sold Sanctuary/Refuge, but decided, no, it would be far too premature. Besides, I had too many books and guns to fit within her -- and, if she went down with my guns and books, I think I would go with her, too.

Early on, by design, I turned into a newspaper jack-of-all-trades. I can do it all, none of it especially well, but run any desk or handle any job or write satisfactorily enough to cover any story in the joint. The words generally used to describe me are "sort of indispensable." Hard to beat that, unless the newspaper itself actually folds, and which is why it never has been difficult for me to find work.

It is a strange feeling, trying to decide which t-shirt fits a given occasion, when you open a drawer and see one from the Sierra Club and another from the Audubon Society, and next to them is another that reads: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, because I am the meanest SOB in the valley." It is an even stranger feeling to know they all accurately represent a part of you or, at least, a part of you that you have been and could be again, should circumstances call for it in protection of loved ones or castle or any innocent's life. Who says the male of the species is not a complex creature?

Music Note: Listening to Lee Ann Womack ....
Specifically, "I Hope You Dance" ....
Some lines from: "I Hope You Dance:"

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted

God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance