what ya listenin to, profcrispy? amerifuckincana.

commander cody and the lost planet airmen, the steaming bayarea texas swing/head band. they are so amazingly hot, so tight, so loose: so, so good. they boogie like no one before or since and beautifully explore various genres of american music: boogie, swing, country.  they were central to my youth and unlike many such items have not lost one whit of savor. hot rod lincoln. down to seeds and stems. smoke smoke smoke. everyone's doin it. beat me, daddy. the only roughly comparable project: the 70s recordings of asleep at the wheel. new riders of the purple sage featured the amazing buddy cage on pedal steel, but never quite overcame their "novelty act" status: "panama red." anyway, "tales from the ozone," which includes none of the more familar songs, is on my alltime top ten.

ok. speaking of asleep at the wheel: anything, ever, is worth listening to. but their best, for me, was in the seventies. now "greatest hits from 1970," which you could get on itunes and everywhere, is misleading: these are later re-recordings with a different lineup. i loved their early girl singer, chris o'connell, and also singer leroy preston. they are sorely missed on the reversions. also, the stuff just sounds more canned. what you want are these:

b.b. king: perhaps the greatest living american musician (other candidates: george jones, aretha, ricky skaggs, kool herc, vince neill (kidding)). i used to kind of reject him, opting for what i deemed the real delta: muddy, elmore james, robert johnson. but this incomparable body of work! the great intensity of what comes out of lucille; the huge, ferocious, warm voice: the whole thing not a performance or a series of songs, but an environment, a whole truth.

yard sale, "everything's a dollar"
this is a lovely indie album by an all-female trio from oakland: very simple and kindarough harmonies, with a sweet, simple accordion as the main instrumental voice. it just emerged out of a million "alt.country" cds in my mailbox to find a permanent home on my changer; the songs kept running through my head, making me feel a little better.

walter horton: the best blues harp player this side of walter jacobs: with the biggest bluesiest tone ever pulled out of marine band: a large man and a large life, all pulled through tiny little wafers of metal, making them ring, shake, squawk, sing, love. below is the right album.