Hello darkness my old friend

I’ve come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while i was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

I’ve been humming this since I saw the prompt for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday from Linda Hill: silent/silence.

I’ve embedded the original version by Simon and Garfunkel and the Disturbed version below. If you’ve never listened to the Disturbed version.




Not sure I’ve ever heard another song by Disturbed — not much of a metal fan — but, damn, they did a fantastic job on this. Love it when people do the unexpected and it’s awesome.

That hair on Garfunkel though, oofah.

So, Sound of Silence . . . . don’t really have much on that. You listen to the lyrics and, like any great song, they speak as well today as they did — HOLY SHIT I LOOKED IT UP (1970) — songs that old are supposed to be by Etta James, The Temptations, Tina Turner, The Beatles, and the rest. Of course, weird to realize that Guns N Roses are further in the past from now than the Temptations, Otis Redding, Chuck Berry, and James Brown were from when I was listening to them on Oldies 1310 AM in Sulphur while playing Yatzhee and card games at my Dad’s round about 1980.

Ooooooh, listening to Disturbed version on YouTube and the Johnny Cash version of Hurt is now playing.

Talk about an unexpected match of singer and material. Never was a fan of the original from Nine Inch Nails, mostly because couldn’t really understand the damn lyrics.

They lyrics of Hurt though . . . damn.

Johnny Cash was punk and rock before there was punk and rock.

Combined with Johnny Cash’s weathered, world weary voice and it’s magic. Sounds like redemption. Trent Razner wrote a damn fine song.

Speaking of Johnny, the musician I’ve loved since I can remember listening to music and my mom had the 8-track with A Boy Named Sue on it, how lucky are we that Rick Rubin produced the American Recordings with him in the final years of his life. From gospel songs, to reworkings of hits, to twists on other’s songs; it’s one of the best series of albums evah.

OMG. We’ve gone from Johnny Cash to Looking Glass and Brandy, my all time favorite bad song.

We all love at least one song that is empirically just kinda bad. For me: Brandy. Because he came on a summer’s day bringing gifts from far away.

Bloggus interuptous — off to the booze store per spousal direction.

Aaaaaannndddd, back, a day later with yard mowed and a Lagunitas IPA in hand as a richly deserved reward.

Also a reward, restarted Brandy from the beginning.

Great googally moogally but I love this song.

YouTube is doing it right — now onto the Proclaimers. I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more.

Or, as my cousin Lee used to put it, I’d crawl a mile over broken glass to pick the corn out of your shit.

Lee . . . had a way with words sometimes.

This song always reminds me of Benny and Joon. Johnny Depp before he got all weird and shit, channeling Keith Richards via Blackbeard in all those Pirates movies.

Singing and sipping breaks have greatly decreased typing speed.

One final song, drum rollllllllll . . . .

Oh, nice, King Harvest, Dancing in the Moonlight.

Everybody should do some dancing in the moonlight now and then. It is a fine and natural sight because you can’t dance and stay uptight.

Ah, that was a fun bit of music.

One last one, because, all time favorite. You better just beware of a man named Leroy Brown.

My Dad had this Jim Croce album when I was a kid on vinyl of course. Would pop it on now and again at Mawmaw’s.

RIP, Junkyard Dog.

And meaner than the Junkyard Dog was mean. I could relate to that one because I watched Mid-South wresting on a Saturday morning and he was a Junkyard Dog indeed.

Just remember, never mess with the wife of a jealous man.

OK, as I was getting this formatted, Son of Preacher Man came on by Dusty Springfield. What an all-time great voice and great song. Read once that she recorded in Muscle Shoals Alabama with the headphone sounds so loud that she couldn’t hear her own voice as she recorded.

Favorite Dusty song though, Breakfast in Bed. Sweet. Melancholy. Beautifully sung. Do yourself a favor and listen to Dusty in Memphis one day. You won’t regret it.

And, for those so inclined, the soundtrack of this blog post.

Bonus song I just thought of, Unchained from the album Unchained. I don’t go to church, but everytime I listen to this I feel like I’m going to church.

I am weak. Oh, I now I am vain. Take this weight from me. Let my spirit be. Unchained.


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