No cheap irony intended, but it's worth pointing out that the dog in the song (the last that White recorded with the group) is killed in a road accident. White himself, of course, was killed two years later by a drunk driver while he was loading his guitar and amp into the trunk of his car behind a California club where he'd been performing. I'm not a supporter of the death penalty, but I would cheerfully make an exception in the case of the guy who ran White down.
In any case, I hadn't thought about "Bugler" in a million years, but it popped into my head unbidden last weekend after hearing "Old Blue" in that episode of Shakespeare and Hathaway I mentioned yesterday. Needless to say, I was happy to discover that it was as moving as my imperfect memory had suggested.
I mean, seriously -- if it doesn't choke you up, frankly I don't wanna know you.
New music in a more upbeat vein and more suited to the mission statement of this here blog resumes on the morrow.
5 comments:
i am reminded of the movie "old yeller" - that was a three-kleenex film
May I recommend the album "Muleskinner" by the group of the same name - prime late-era Clarence, both acoustic and electric. Cla-RONSE Le-BLANC.
Here, Yeller! Come back yeller. Best doggone dog in the west.
Yeah Muleskinner is great. Also check out the session comps Tuff & Stringy and White Lightnin'. Plus, of course, all the Kentucky Colonels and White Brothers stuff.
Was listening to Everly Brothers "I'm On My Way Home Again," over the weeekend. Nice. And with Clarence and Gene.
I simply loved the Clarence White era Byrds. What I call the “Hairy Byrds.” “Lover of the Bayou,” has never stopped knockin’ me out. Only Clarence White could pull that off.
The salaciously distorted B-Bender Telly flows into me like a bubbling cauldron of hot voodoo brew. The electric assault of his rapacious weapon leaves me in breathless ecstasy. My hips and bottom, possessed by Marie Laveau and Little Egypt, sizzle and swirl with the rhythmic genius of Skip and Gene. It brings me to full gallop in the Frenzy of Exultations.
It fills the panorama with exploding, coming colors. Like Jack the Dripper’s flame merged with the she-wolf, imbibed with the shimmering substance and allied with the guardians of the secret into the lavender mist of convergence, my essence is flung onto the warm wet canvas and splattered with perfectly predestined fluid licentiousness.
I learned the key to the master lock. Learned to float in the water clock. Learned to capture the lightning shock. I'm the lover of the bayou.
Ahhhhhh. Rinse and repeat.
VR
I am SOOOOO stealing the Hairy Byrds.😎
Lucky enough to see Clarence prior to his passing.
Got to see the Byrds in Hollywood Ffa back in the day.
Rob
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