It Begins Now or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Scribble Down Some Sort Of Manifesto

Sooner or later, the music world will shift to a tilt: a hurried scurry of an earthquake - a toppling of towers on their sides; exposing the guts of all that music is and should not be: at least not in my estimation.

Yeah. So. Word was. Word is.

You can’t ask a cat with no legs to stand, so don’t ask us peg-legged preachers to sit down. Hell, that’s all we’ve been doing during the sentenced spells. Sitting. Rotting. We’ve been hearing the same zig-zags for far too long now.

Tell you what champ. We need some change.

I’m not talking a handful of browns and silvers and lint and thread: I’m talking a turn around. An upside-down and inside-out. A revamp for vamps. A pair of walking shoes for all those jacks and jills who have been sitting with the pail like they’ve got broken legs for miles and minutes.

I’m not waiting for the seconds. We need the firsts. And we need it now.

So. What is this? Ain’t you heard, cat, kitten?

This is a Blog.

If you’re sitting, standing or demanding; Eyes peeled - reading. Then you know what it is. I don’t need to thump at you with explanations and/or spit at you with the perceptions of a mouthful of hopeful saliva.

Yeah, a fucking blog, because, when we get to the downs, I’m really just a fan so caught up in the catches of all this, I thought I put some words to imaginary paper and plunk my fingers down on the keyboard like a catatonic piano player.

So. This?

This is about that thing out and about in this crazy kooky world that spins me like a disheveled pile of laundry doing hot loops and Laundromat summersaults. So. Yes. Well. All to the alls and up on the walls, I suppose this is really about the music that I love.

I mean, this is THE music as far as I’m keeping count and concern. It keeps me ticking like a clock with tourettes, leaves me a jut and jam on the constant, it’s the jump in my jumper cables, hell, it’s the turbinado sugar in my morning cup of Joseph.

Truth be the tolds and the tells – This is me – Brownbird Rudy Relic, and you know what? I’ve got hope for this music, I’ve got a big bad vat void of a cavern deep within my heart for Blues, Roots and the periphery. I breathe it because an asthmatic like me needs this type of special delivery envelope for my lungs – it keeps me panting and swimming in the inhales and exhales.

This Blog is about Roots Music.
Core.
Periphery.

Idealistic you say? Yes, just a tad chad. But that’s where I live – In the creases. You’ll know it’s me, because I’ve got my heart on my sleeve. So. Yes. It begins now. Look for updates daily.

Up the Blues.
Up the Roots.
Fuck Shit Up.

EMAIL ME:
brownbirdrudyrelic(A)gmail.com