Siempre lo dije (I ´ve been allways saying this)

Many years ago I had a deep discussion on a radio broadcast with Dr. Arsuaga from Atapuerca project. I told him that Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons, obviously, ought to have progeny together. He said: Impossible. Now they assumed that and they threw their papers on the basket. Also he didn´t belelieve neanderthals would had been "religious", now we know they really were.
If you want to know more just click in the title of the blogpost but anyway it just confirms what I have been tellin you in this blog.
Peace & Love.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/10/101005085505.htm

The Myth of the Amazons and the First Horseman of the Revelation. The origins of the male domination.

Once upon time, long ago, men loved women sincerely. And women do the same.
Men had to hunt to provide proteins to the group and that made women could suckle the progeny with rich milk.
But hunting was a dangerous activity and many of the men died in the forests.
Women knew that and were tender to the hunters. They gathered some fruits but these weren´t enough to feed the whole group.
The men only hunt when there was a real need.
Therefore someone invented the arch, and then began the men domination over other animals and over women too, sadly. Hunting became a safe activity, so they hunt more than they need.
Far from using the new gadget to increase the love between the group, the specialized hunters used it to empower themselves inside the group. New concepts as richness, status, hierarchy, leadership…, arose in the human culture.
The law type forms of knowledge born with the original sin had a great growth.
The amazons cut their breast to improve their arching abilities. The Myth told us about women that rebelled against the new status quo. The metaphore of the breast cutting is eloquent enough if you compare with the anthropological interpretation showed above.
The First Horseman of the Revelation is the archer.
The first enemy of creation is also the first threat for another types of knowledge founded in love.
Love & Peace.

The Art of Jock Bartley.

Que Jock Bartley es un guitarrista fuera de serie lo sabemos todos. Que forma parte dela leyenda, de la mejor historia de la música (bueno, sólo hay que ojear la foto), PERO QUE ES UN PINTOR EXTRAORDINARIO SÍ QUE ES UNA CIERTA NOVEDAD. Just click in the tittle and you will see....

http://www.jockbartley.net/series.html

LOVE IS THE HIGHER LAW

I know that most of you should have thought about the original sin. And many have done, sure.
One million years ago our ancestors changed the reproduction system usual in mammals for parental institutions (Robin Fox). Incest and adultery arose as restrictions ad intra and ad extra for copulation, so humans became differentiated from other animals.
Most of you believe that the difference must be seen on the rational core of the humans but maybe you didn´t notice that first to be rational you must be normative. Norms are essential and previous to reason. You must say this must be (or not) before you make a logic proposition.
First it was logos, say the Word.
The metaphore of original sin tell us about the irruption of this type of knowledge in the human cultural core. The knowledge founded in the LAW. We use this form in each and every part of the culture: mathematics, physics, music…not just only in the legal world (Michael Foucault).
With this instrument humans have conquered the Earth and are destroying the creation. Devil must be happy.
Yesterday, I was reading the debates that are partially shown in The Mission movie. And that´s right: Jesus message had no need to be told to Parana´s indigenous peoples because they were clean of the original sin. They didn´t use the law type knowledge forms so they live in harmony with God and creation.
The sharing of the Gospel was necessary when they took contact with what we call civilization.
LOVE IS THE HIGHER LAW (Saint Paul, Maura Alonso). This is the leit-motiv of the Gospels, but millions of people are not Christian and they have their right to do so.
That´s why I think Woodstock Nation burst in to history.
Love & Peace Friends.

Artie Kornfeld, una luz en el camino.

Esta es la página de Artie Kornfeld. Fue el fundador del Festival de Woodstock, y muchas cosas más. Artie sigue en la brecha, fiel a sus creencias, lo ha dado todo por ellas Y NUNCA SE HA BAJADO DEL AUTOBUS¡¡¡
WELLCOME TO THE BLOG ARTIE¡¡¡


http://www.artiekornfeld-woodstock.com/

On my way....

Just writing the sad song...just drinking my last bourbon...just thinking in you


Wherever, yesterday, your tender endearment
Brought me the sweet graze of ambrosia,
Blistered traces and rotten pustules became today
And your sincere lover, more rubbish on the pavement

Once we were the brightest stars of the Sunday parade
Main Street whole looking astonished at you and me.
Now my ass on the sidewalk with a guitar to be played
On a freezing grimy throne for the king of misery

Their charity throw dimes in my beggars cups
Steady chords sounding like escaping thieves
For each and every chimes clink, sooner is the wine
Good for my welfare asylum hard dirty bed.

Wise advices did I read in and old Baroque play
That life is a dream, and dreams are dreams indeed
But I went blind while celebrating my success
And forgot where I do belong, just a country kid.

The third secret of Fatima explained

This is the literal text:

"After the two parts which I have already explained, at the left of Our Lady and a little above, we saw an Angel with a flaming sword in his left hand; flashing, it gave out flames that looked as though they would set the world on fire; but they died out in contact with the splendour that Our Lady radiated towards him from her right hand: pointing to the earth with his right hand, the Angel cried out in a loud voice: ‘Penance, Penance, Penance!'. And we saw in an immense light that is God: ‘something similar to how people appear in a mirror when they pass in front of it' a Bishop dressed in White ‘we had the impression that it was the Holy Father'. Other Bishops, Priests, men and women Religious going up a steep mountain, at the top of which there was a big Cross of rough-hewn trunks as of a cork-tree with the bark; before reaching there the Holy Father passed through a big city half in ruins and half trembling with halting step, afflicted with pain and sorrow, he prayed for the souls of the corpses he met on his way; having reached the top of the mountain, on his knees at the foot of the big Cross he was killed by a group of soldiers who fired bullets and arrows at him, and in the same way there died one after another the other Bishops, Priests, men and women Religious, and various lay people of different ranks and positions. Beneath the two arms of the Cross there were two Angels each with a crystal aspersorium in his hand, in which they gathered up the blood of the Martyrs and with it sprinkled the souls that were making their way to God".

- What Lucia have seen is the history of christianity, that farther than the spirit of the prosecution times, have became a kind of political civilization: "big city half in ruins and half trembling with halting step, afflicted with pain and sorrow".
- Christianity have to turn to love as an escathology, forgeting political empowerment, and this is the message of returning to the Calvary, the place where the supreme act of love have been done. In this trip christianity have to take consciousness of their own sins: "afflicted with pain and sorrow, he prayed for the souls of the corpses he met on his way" .
- Anyway, the oficial church will disappear because far than spreading the love, had been more worried in other material things: "he was killed by a group of soldiers who fired bullets and arrows at him ".
- There´s a very sharp metaphore with the "arrows" concept that must be compared with the book of Revelation. First of the four horsemen is the archer, that means the domination of the humans over nature. Anthropologists know that the arch was the first invention that provides to humans brains abstract concepts as richness, because it allows you to hunt a lot without risk (that´s why in the book the horseman wear a terrenal crown "dyadema" not like the beast ore Jesus wear that are celestial). The second horseman means the domination by war, and the third is domination by commerce. The fourth is the result of human history: a devastated earth and a lot of brothers and sisters suffering. That was explained to us because original sin is knowledge, knowledege used to dominate mother earth and other brothers. SO WHEN THE CHRISTIANITY IS SAID: WILL BE KILLED BY ARROWS, IT´S MEANING AN ENVIROMENTAL DISEASE, SO THE FIRST HORSEMAN MEANS THE ABSURD OF HUMAN EGOIST DOMINATION OVER EARTH.

Why this could be only opened after 1960? Lucia had a great intuition, only the hippie revolution could understand the importance of love over any kind of rules, and the respect for creation.

LOVE & PEACE

Esta noche veremos a Dick Dale

Una de las leyendas de la música surf nos visita hoy en Gijón. Subiremos crónica.

Saturday night tristesse

Some of you will remember last saturday I´ve got the blues. The loneliness of the lone lawyer at the office with no more Jack Daniels in the bottle. Evangeline waiting to be played in the main client chair, just in front of me, and a wet mist that came with the high tide covering the big window (a Vincent painting rendition).
Two last teardrops of Old nº 7 went to aromatize one mini thick cigar and before playing I needed to share some vids with you. Jim Croce irrupted on my mind, alltough I didn´t played him since I was 20. Phyllis, Scott. Peggy, Jimmy, Ian, Bea Jo...,thanks for being with me commenting, posting lines of the lyrics, etc. I´ll sware you that I felt you so close.
And as I´ve said to you, just when the dawn was rising I finished the song I´ve posted on this blog. I know the lyrics ain´t superb but joint with music it was enough to drove me to my bed, cured and empty.
Drinking loneliness tube shots with you dear friends, is one of the plains that I like most. If you´re on the net, next saturday more (I know I will be blue).
Thanks again.

Maurindaa returns, AND HOW¡¡¡

Let´s listen to this fantastic Maurindaa song. The psychedelic bus is so proud to have artist like Maurindaa, Richie, Toni and Ed,...We´re on the trip to never ever land with great, great music. JUST CLICK IN THE TITTLE AND PLAY IT LOUD¡¡¡

Hope You Remember When (Cozmicfolkfan)

HOPE YOU REMEMBER WHEN

These words, bonita, are hard to find
And even I don´t know how it will work,
A screaming shout, a silent crying
Hard nights for a tipsy clown


I would like to be so proud
Burying the dried flowers you gave me,
And telling friends soberb and loud
That your flight doesn´t hurt me

but

I walked the streets tonight
Trying to feel the same, nena
Hope you remember when
Hope you remember when
Trying to feel the same, nena
Hope you remember when
Hope you remember when

The deceived hipster touched gold
First time you let me comb your hair,
Stoned and naked over the sticky floor
You were showing your distant way

Guess you like it, did you smile?
Darling you really have your tender
Believing you loved me, for a while
You were the sweetest of your gender

and

I walked the streets tonight
Trying to feel the same, nena
Hope you remember when
Hope you remember when
Trying to feel the same, nena
Hope you remember when
Hope you remember when

Sweet Maurindaa and the Witch Mercatoria

Maurindaa is a cyber friend of mine who rocks so fine. She plays guitar good and sings even better. You know she´s one of our favs. Maura is a hippie, so she´s on the bus and the bus is grated to take her with us to never ever land.
Witch Mercatoria is allways chasing dollars in the net. Her sons the ugly "dwarflawyers" had began a prosecution against Maurindaa, trying to forbide her posts of own covers with an interesed interpretation of the author rights.
We want to tell Mercatoria and the "dwarflawyers" that when an author sings own songs there´re two kinds of rights to protect. The one that´s born over the composition and another over the playing inself. The composition could be played, as we play Mozart and other partitures, and only if you earn money with the cover you´ve to pay to the author. The own interpretation is so personal and I can´t post Hotel California original Eagles cover as my own.
There´s a recognized right for everybody to make "art over art". Just remember Mozart Operas where he included popular tunes of his time that weren´t compossed by him (Non piu andrai, for example).
Maurindaa the bus is with you, we love your covers and if you like you can post your vids here.We are going to add Maurindaa´s blog: http://mysongtoyou.blogspot.com, to favs.
Peace & Love and KEEP ON ROCKING ¡¡¡

A Poem for Gram by DA Woods

Peggy Hanson además de ofrecernos sus magníficas camisetas (www.cypresscowboy.com) me mando este poema que había encontrado en la red. La foto de los FBB la copié del especial sobre el Country 2, de Carretera Sin Fin, enorme y genial, cuyo enlace tenéis en la parte izquierda en la Lista de Blogs (merece totalmente la pena).

I saw this nice GP poem online by DA Woods:

The flying brother,
who sang like no other,
a tortured soul inside.
Death at an early age,
a vacant stage,
Joshua tree county landslide.
Sin City blue,
mohair hair suit,
reaching for stardom.
Music kept alive,
an idol to thrive,
Goodnight and R.I.P. Gram.

On the comments, Richie Auriemma posted this, that we hang on the main page:
Ode to Gram
May we never forget
The music he made
None of us can regret
He died very young
Was not here very long
But he left us his fortune
Of beautiful songs
Out in the desert
The fire burned bright
But there was no family
Only demons in sight
Will Gram ever rest
Where does it all fit in
Its must be in that lonely
Ol' Hickory Wind

A Song for Gram (Cozmicfolkfan)

Hey you,
roadie pilgrim that follows that star in the western skies
Don´t forget it´s shining more brightly at the cold dawn
Keep your attention, just that moment, when the sun arise
Can you hear that voice singing above Mojave sands?

"Warm evenings, pale mornings with a bottle of blues"
Fine and mellow, shakes softly your stoned heart
And a million of Nudie rhinestones claim your dues
on each and every little drop of American dew.

Take care to manage that “deadly Denver bend”,
Although “we all got wheels to take ourselves away”
But your hands must be firm and your eyes open wide,
Farther along from Boulder it´s placed Cheyenne.

Me and not heading west “to grow up with the country”
So faraway over that deep blue Atlantic sea,
Where “truckers, kickers and cowboy angels”
Only could be found high on whiskey daydreams

But some sleepless nights when the sky is clear
My burning throat spread impossible tunes,
Flowing to the west, across the eternal Milky Way
Riding diligent on chords, sounding just for you

Reverbnation Country Chart

Echarnos un cable viendo el vid para que subamos en el chart ¡¡¡

Es puro folk-psicodélico (doy fe).

Richie Auriemma. The Sensational Liz Richie Band II

How precious is life? How golden is the time we keep?How do we love each other tomorrow? My answer for all 3 is simple: "allways". El autor de esta reflexión es mi amigo Richie Auriemma, a quien hoy dedicamos esta entrada del autobús lisérgico. De este autobús que sigue tirando millas dedicado a expandir lo que ya todos conocéis.

Richie es un gran poeta y un enorme músico. Me encantan sus canciones y me sobrecoge enormemente su forma de escribir. Ya hemos subido al blog "Loving me tonight". Subiremos más canciones y una selección de sus textos:

"Sometimes i think to myself, how much of my life evolves around music.Or how much does music evolve around my life? I guess I've struggled with that for years & finally I think I've finally had my major epiphany about it (Richie Auriemma)"

En este enlace tenéis sus canciones: "Enough" es una canción triste, muy personal en una clave musical de folk-psychedélico, que a mí personalmente me encanta y Richie domina. En la misma línea, pero más alegre "Tea". "Lean with me" habla de un sueño de Richie, es menos folk y más "rock", me recuerda a Paul Verlaine, pero esta es una opinión muy personal. Siguiendo esta línea "Feel" es puro "rock", mientras que "Blue Eyes Cryin´" es un blues. Como puede apreciarse, Richie domina abundantes registros.

http://www.soundclick.com/thesensationallizrichieband
(basta pulsar en el título de la entrada y os reenvia a soundclick).
Liz, su pareja le acompaña en la banda. Lo que significa Liz para Richie, nadie mejor que él para contarlo:

"I look at this woman & I freeze.Time stops.Every time.Every day.Its more than a "fire inside" or lust, or infatuation.Its actually quite simple.Liz=Love (Richie Auriemma)".

Sería bueno traerle por aquí. Esta preparando un CD donde el toca todos los instrumentos.Y es muy gratificante pensar que somos parte de su sueño:

"My dream is to make people happy with my music.Very happy, in fact".
Richie

Una gran canción

Esperando a Cracker

Esperando al gig del Acapulco, ManoloGranPa nos manda el setlist de hace 12 días en New York, en el Highline Ballroom, mientras que "CozmicPiper at the Gates of Dawn" nos envía unas fotos del show ayer en Madrid, avisándonos del delito de lesa majestad en que incurriríamos de perdernos este concierto. Ya sabéis: el que avisa y no llega antes es...

Cracker
2010-01-15
Highline Ballroom
New York, NY USA
Digital Master Recording
Soundboard + Audience Matrix
Soundboard + Neumann KM-150s > Edirol R-44 (Oade Concert Mod) > 2x 24bit 48kHz wav files > Soundforge (level adjustments, mixdown, set fades) > CDWave 1.95 (tracking) > Flac Frontend (level 7, align sector boundaries) > flac
Setlist:
[Total Time 1:57:33]
01 Friends
02 I See The Light
03 Sweet Potato
04 This Is Cracker Soul
05 [whore request story]
06 Eurotrash Girl
07 Lonesome Johnny Blues
08 Wedding Day
09 [Iraq tour story]
10 Yalla Yalla
11 Teen Angst (What The World Needs Now)
12 Merry Christmas Emily
13 Happy Birthday To Me
14 Been Around the World
15 Hey Bret (You Know What Time It Is)
16 Gimme One More Chance
17 The Man in Me (Bob Dylan)
18 Big Dipper
19 Low
20 Seven Days
21 [encore break]
22 I Ride My Bike
23 Interstellar Overdrive (Pink Floyd)*
*Cracker and Camper together (minus Sal)
http://tinyurl. com/ydawq84
Juanky

MAGNÍFICAS T-SHIRTS

Esta fantástica camiseta - una auténtica edición facsímil de la que lució nuestro admiradísimo Roger McGuinn en la reunión de los Byrds del ´73 -, puedes encargarla en www.cypresscowboy.com a Peggy Hanson.
Además, tiene otras preciosas de Gram y Sneaky Pete, me ha roto el alma de buen rollo y voy a encargar una pila de ellas.
Love ya.

Live Fast and Die Young (Misadventures in Rock´n´Roll America) Chris Price & Joe Harland

One autumn, radio producers Chris and Joe drive across America, roof down, stereo up, and discover the roots of the sounds they love. They sell their souls to the devil on the same crossroads as Robert Johnson, buy booze from the same store as Jim Morrison, hang out with the spirit of Johnny Cash in his own front room and sit on a jetty by an alligator-infested lake to sing 'Happy Birthday' to country-rock musician Gram Parsons. But first they must learn the ukulele, grow moustaches, fail to get into the Chateau Marmont, get very drunk with rising popstar Terra Naomi - and that's just day one. It's a tale of friendship tested to the limit, noble myths, love lost and found, perfect lyrics, good times...

Recomiendo también http://missingparsons.com un blog fantástico, genial para los que amamos la carretera, los honky-tonks, el musicón y los tragos de Jack Daniels.

The Sensational Liz Richie Band: Lovin Me Tonight

Come gather round people...From Bellingham (WA)the BUS is pleased to share this vid with all of our friends.
http://bands.soundclick.com/share/116268

More about Gram´s dead. A compilation of texts by Richie Auriemma (very interesting)

For anyone who gives a crap...i sure do....
The Strange Death of Gram Parsons 1973

To read about the last Gram Parsons tour and album, see Gram Parsons & the Fallen Angels: 1972-1973. This section covers the death of Gram Parsons in some detail. Although his music is by far the most vital part of the Gram Parsons story, his death is the first introduction to that story for many people. Perhaps some of those looking to read about that death will be persuaded by other parts of the profile to check out his music too. So think of this section as being sort of like sex education... Since the events of that day are the subject of so many myths, mistakes, and mysteries, better to describe frankly those events (as best as they can ever be known now) than to have people believing the even wilder gossip they pick up on the street.


Joshua Tree:

Gram Parsons had been hanging out at the Joshua Tree National Monument for several years -- he went there regularly, with Chris Hillman when they were bandmates, and later with Keith Richards, to get high, commune with the cactus, and watch the sky for UFOs. He reserved two rooms at the nearby Joshua Tree Inn, a modest cinder-block motel whose owners had come to know Parsons after several visits. Along with Parsons on this trip were his "valet" and chum, Michael Martin; Martin's girlfriend Dale McElroy (no fan of Gram Parsons); and an old friend from his high school days in Florida named Margaret Fisher.
The events of that trip have been recounted by Dale McElroy, who told her story to Ben Fong-Torres when he was writing Hickory Wind, then retold it in her own words in Phil Kaufman's 1993 bio. Other accounts differ, but hers seems the most reliable.
The foursome arrived Monday, September 17, 1973. That day they indulged sufficiently that Martin returned to Los Angeles the next morning to score more marijuana -- even though Martin theoretically went along on the trip so he could look after Parsons. Parsons dragged the women out to the airport for lunch, throughout which he drank Jack Daniels non-stop.
When they returned from lunch, McElroy excused herself -- she couldn't drink because she was recovering from hepatitis, and she wasn't having any fun watching Parsons drink.
Meanwhile, Parsons scored some heroin in town and then topped it off with morphine he acquired from a drug connection, who was staying at the Inn. Several hours later, a wasted Fisher showed up at McElroy's door in a frantic state. Parsons had overdosed, she said. They grabbed some ice and went to Room 1, where he was passed out on the floor, blue. There Fisher revived him with an ice cube suppository -- an old street remedy for overdoses. When McElroy left the two alone again, he was walking around the room, seemingly recovered.
After another hour or so, at about 10:00, Fisher returned to McElroy's room and asked her to sit with the sleeping Parsons while she went out to get some dinner. McElroy grabbed a book and went to Parsons's room -- Room 8. After a few minutes, she realized that his breathing had gone from normal to labored. McElroy had no experience with drug overdoses and no training in CPR. Believing (incorrectly) that there were no other people in the hotel, she never called out for help. Instead she tried to get him breathing again by pumping his back and his chest and giving him mouth-to-mouth. "I tried to figure out whether to stay and keep him breathing or leave and get some help.... I figured if I left, he might die."*
After about a half hour of futile pumping and pushing, McElroy realized that Parsons was probably beyond help. At this point Margaret Fisher returned, then left to call an ambulance. The rescue crew arrived quickly, but concluded that CPR would not be successful. They got Parsons to the nearby Hi-Desert Memorial Hospital in Yucca Valley by 12:15 AM. The doctors there found no pulse and, after trying unsuccessfully to restart his heart, declared him dead at 12:30 AM, Wednesday, September 19, 1973.
The press were told that Parsons had died of natural causes, but after performing an autopsy, the coroner listed the cause of death as "drug toxicity, days, due to multiple drug use, weeks."* A blood test showed a blood alcohol level of 0.21% -- high, but nowhere near fatal standing alone. No morphine showed in the blood test, though it did turn up in more than trace amounts in urine and liver tests. The urinalysis also revealed traces of cocaine and barbiturates. Since substances may accumulate in the body over a long time, it's unclear from the urine and liver tests whether Parsons used morphine, cocaine or barbiturates that day.
Fisher and McElroy were questioned by the police at the hospital. McElroy called Phil Kaufman in Los Angeles, who persuaded the sheriff that he could answer all their questions as soon as he arrived. The sheriff then permitted Fisher and McElroy to stay at the motel until Kaufman arrived. When Kaufman got to the hotel, the women gave him Parsons's drugs, which they had gathered up before the ambulance and police arrived.* Kaufman took the drugs and hid them in the desert, then called the police station. He promised the police he would bring McElroy and Fisher in for further questioning, then piled them in his car and drove them straight back to LA, where he hid them out for a few days. The Joshua Tree police never sought out the two women.
Both Margaret Fisher and Alan Barbary, the son of the hotel owners, told conflicting versions of that night's events, which added to the confusion and exaggeration that soon surrounded the death of Gram Parsons.

Safe at Home:

When the news of his stepson's death reached Bob Parsons, he immediately realized that his own interests would be best served by having the body buried in Louisiana, where the senior Parsons lived. Parsons knew that under Louisiana's Napoleonic code, his adopted son's estate would pass in its entirety to the nearest living male -- Bob Parsons -- notwithstanding any will provisions to the contrary. But the code would only apply if Bob Parsons could prove that Gram Parsons had been a resident of Louisiana. Burying the younger Parsons in New Orleans would bolster the tenuous arguments for Louisiana residency. Bob Parsons booked a flight to LA to claim the body. At stake was his stepson's share of the dwindling but still substantial Snively fortune.
When Phil Kaufman learned of the plan to bury his friend in New Orleans, he became distraught. He knew that Parsons had no connection whatsoever to that city. He knew that Parsons had little use for his stepfather, and would not have wanted any of his estate to pass to him. He knew that Parsons had not wanted a long, depressing, religious service with family and friends. Most of all he knew he had made a pact with Parsons, at the funeral of Clarence White: whoever died first, "the survivor would take the other guy's body out to Joshua Tree, have a few drinks and burn it."*
After a day of vodka-enhanced self-recriminations, Kaufman decided he had to try to make good on his promise. Thus began one of the most unforgettable episodes of what hackers call "social engineering." For the full story, check out Kaufman's biography, Road Mangler Deluxe, which describes the whole episode in Kaufman's own inimitable fashion. What follows is only a taste of Kaufman's tale.
Kaufman called the funeral parlor in the town of Joshua Tree and managed to learn that the body would be driven to LAX and then flown on Continental to New Orleans. He called the airline's mortuary service and found out that the body would arrive that evening. Kaufman recruited Michael Martin, who knew about the pact, and commandeered a hearse of Dale McElroy's, which she and Martin used for camping trips. It had no license plates and several broken windows, but it would do. They tried on suits, but decided they looked so ridiculous that they changed into their tour clothes -- Levi's, cowboy boots, cowboy hats, and jackets with the legend "Sin City" stitched on the back. They loaded the hearse up with beer and Jack Daniels and headed for LAX.
Kaufman and Martin arrived at the loading dock just as a flatbed truck rolled up with the Parsons casket. A drunken Kaufman somehow persuaded an airline employee that the Parsons family had changed its plans and wanted to ship the body privately on a chartered flight.
While Kaufman was in the hangar office, signing the paperwork with a phony name, a policeman pulled up, blocking the hangar door. Kaufman was sure his operation would be shut down, but the officer didn't do anything -- he just sat there. So Kaufman walked out to him, waved his copies of the paperwork, and said, "Hey, can you move that car?" The officer apologized, moved the car, and then, remarkably, helped Kaufman load the casket onto a gurney and into the back of the unlicensed, liquor-filled hearse.
Martin, also liquor-filled, got in the hearse and headed out of the hangar, only to run into the wall on his way out. The officer observed all this, and commented ruefully, "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes now." Then he left, and the two drunk bodysnatchers departed the airport with the body of their friend. They stopped at a gas station and filled a gas can with high test ("I didn't want him to ping," Kaufman says.) Then they headed back for Joshua Tree.
They reached the Monument and drove until they were too drunk to drive any farther. There, near the Cap Rock, a landmark geological formation, they unloaded their friend's coffin. Then Kaufman saw car lights in the distance and concluded the police were coming. He quickly doused his friend with fuel and lit him. The two watched as a giant fireball rose from the coffin, sucking his ashes into the desert night. Then they abandoned the charred remains and headed for LA.
After a trip home filled with close calls, Kaufman and Martin laid low. The morning after their return, the papers were full of the story of the rock star's hijacked and burnt corpse, playing up baseless speculation by local police that the amateur cremation may have been "ritualistic."*
Kaufman knew the police were looking for him, so after a few weeks, he and Martin just turned themselves in. They appeared in West L.A. Municipal Court on Parsons's 27th birthday -- November 5, 1973. Since a corpse has no intrinsic value, the two were charged with misdemeanor theft for stealing the coffin and given a slap on the wrist: $708 in damages for the coffin, and a $300 fine for each of the bodysnatchers. Kaufman has surely made that amount back just dining out on the story -- his misadventures have been legendary in rock and country music circles ever since.
The aftermath of the court's sentence was as unlikely as the events leading up to it. Kaufman threw himself a party to raise the fine money -- Kaufman's Koffin Kaper Koncert. They pasted beer bottles with some homemade labels featuring a bad likeness of Parsons and the legend, "Gram Pilsner: A stiff drink for what ales you." Dr. Demento served as deejay, and live music was provided by Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt Kickers of "Monster Mash" fame and a young band being managed by Tickner and Kaufman at the time, Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers. Despite the gruesome streak running through the party, it was a memorable wake for their friend.*
On the other side of the country, some other friends mourned Parsons in a somewhat quieter fashion. Emmylou Harris met with John Nuese, Bill Keith, and Holly and Barry Tashian for a quiet weekend at the Tashians' cottage in Connecticut, where they listened for the first time to finished versions of the sessions from Grievous Angel (Reprise, 1974).


We'll Sweep Out the Ashes in the Morning:

Close calls:
The trip back to L.A. after burning the body of Gram Parsons was every bit as weird as the trip out had been for Phil Kaufman and Michael Martin. Part way home, the drunken pair decided they'd better pull off the road and sleep for a few hours. When they woke up, the hearse wouldn't start. They were stuck in the middle of the desert. Martin went for help and came back with a tow truck; after a few hours, they left with a fresh supply of cold beer.
They were nearly home when they got into a multi-car pile-up on an LA freeway, rear-ending another car. A highway patrolman approached and opened the door to the hearse. When beer bottles fell out, he handcuffed Kaufman and Martin together and told them to stay put. Then he left to attend to other drivers. Before he could return and take their licenses, the very thin Martin had slipped his hand from the cuff. Kaufman started up the hearse and fled the scene. When they got back to chez Kaufman, they sawed off the other cuff, stashed the hearse, and went into hiding.

Gram Parsons left more than his share of loose ends.
Bob Parsons had the charred remains of his stepson shipped to New Orleans, where, after a small service with family only, he was buried in The Garden of Memories, an unimpressive cemetery on a highway near the airport. A bronze plaque marks the gravesite; it reads "God's Own Singer." Although Bob Parsons succeeded in getting the body to Louisiana, his scheme to seize control of the Snively fortune was nevertheless thwarted by a Florida court. About a year later, Bob Parsons died of an alcohol-related illness. He never made a dime off of Gram Parsons.
When Parsons left for Joshua Tree, he believed he had initiated divorce proceedings against Gretchen. As it turned out, this was not the case. Kaufman had the papers to serve on her but hadn't yet done so by the time Parsons died. Along with Gretchen Parsons, his daughter Polly, his sister Avis, and his half-sister Diane all received some money from his estate as well.
Reprise finally released Grievous Angel (Reprise, 1974) in January of 1974 to rave reviews. Yet, despite the notoriety resulting from the death of Parsons, the LP peaked at a disappointing #195 on the album chart.
Despite his lack of commercial success, Gram Parsons acquired a small but fervent following. These fans paid for a plaque that was placed near the Cap Rock, with the words "Safe At Home."

John Henry, by Janclae.

A very interesting poem, which is signed with that icon that shows a relationship beetwen the cross and the hippie peace sign:


Wires like vines are growing over the sleepy cubicle villages.
IT are modern gardners/
They clip the hedges now with network adapters,
Routing the xylem electron feed,
Phlo 'em thoughts shipped to Mexico & Thailand.
Delivering specifications, a new species.
To be hammered & prodded by metal arms,
Modeled after John Henry's prototype.

We're in dependence mode.
Just look at the prayers that bolster factory equipment.
What if's and slowdowns.
The devastation during a power outage.

Union cheerleading.
A helpful paper mache mentality.
As they concede benefits,
To realization, when they ponder,
Whom do I benefit?

Above all, hard work taught me how to enjoy
Silence, sighing, and lemonade.
The moments when I think the work is done,
God works to repair my ache.

The machines could not teach this;
but they impress me nevertheless.

If I cannot treat the machine as a separate being,
if I cannot learn to be a machine,
then I cannot truly appreciate its work.

I could thank he that made the machine.

Machines to sense all the energies
arriving from all directions
Analyzing the unconscious,
Delivering data to decipher.
What does it mean?

It means that anyone unwilling to race the calculator
Cannot appreciate numbers.
It means that anyone unwilling to smell the air
when the barometer says rain,
Cannot weather the storm.

It means that any imprint of "perfection" machine makers receive
becomes a model to reproduce and outcompete
the people;
In whose competition,
there rose perfection.

It means they want to create a new standard
Walls built around our newborns.
Making it easier to tell when they'll cry.
Easier to comfort.
"Resistence is futile."

Eternal vigilence, the antidote.

The walls we build everyday by convenience.
Built over our basic needs.
Built trying to contain existence.

But Nature rebels when we think
we could find contentment inside a pod.

George Douvris. A Woodstocker testimony. For all new born hippies.

In Joni Mitchel’s lyrical homage to Woodstock, her words "and we’ve got to get ourselves back in the garden" do not mean falling into a static dead letter pile of unvital statistics, but an actual and eternal metaphor for freedom and true humanism. An awakened human whose mandala is enriched and nourished by the textures of art, music, spirit, love and passion. "Drugs, Sex, and Rock and Roll" were and are the anthem that needs not be distorted by the historic revisionists that want to eliminate the message of the 60's. For us that have stayed sober to its meaning, we know that the flag we wave stands for the same traditional values that have represented the finest aspects of all higher cultures throughout thousands of years of time including Indian, Pagan, Greek, and the many, many Goddess and other earth friendly indigenous tribes and individuals.
Woodstock is our tribe and the Aquarian Festival our own Mecca. A pilgrimage that continues with how we chose to act, react, think, and feel.
At the time of the concert I was 17 and living in North Carolina. Along with 3 other friends we drove up just in time to be stuck in the mammoth traffic jam surrounding the site, but excited with the energy to walk the several miles to Max Yasgar’s farm among the other growing numbers of brothers and sisters heading for our magnificent family reunion. The first realization of different realities ahead was the crowd telepathy which prevailed on such a grand level. People were showing huge empathy with each other as well as in sharing whatever they could for accommodation. As we crossed the line designating the concert to be free, a fresh breath of responsibility shed off the veil of commodity exchange based relationships and in return there manifested true love and respect for each other and the community that we were a part of.
As to my adventures at the concert, what experiences I do recall are similar to many other testimonies. Totally impressed by the bass player to Mountain, learning how to spell the "F" word by Country Joe, sleeping through most of the Dead set (even though many of the younger fans now would welcome stoning me alive for it), but waking up to see the Who drill their way through Tommy, Sly Stone’s family exuberance, and Grace Slick make us all feel at home with her greeting of "Good Morning People." I shared the heroic experience of most in being able to stay awake for the 3 days of magic to witness the amazing finale of Jimi playing as the crowds slowly headed onward.
A couple of months ago I went up to Wavy Gravy at a rock poster exhibition in San Francisco where I thanked him for turning my life around in so many ways. During an especially tortuous moment at the festival when the storms had ravaged our energies and the whispers of Nixon’s helicopters dropping poisoned candy bars as tainted "care packages", the Hog Farm Commune was serving free food at its makeshift kitchen area. It was the first time I experienced granola and a health food attitude that opened up a better way of living for me. Other excursions into the forest behind the concert area were even more examples of political, spiritual, and artistic groups setting up information booths, educational outreaches, workshops, etc.
Another part of the full experience of Woodstock not covered too well in the movie was the way the Yasgar family took advantage of the plight of the masses caught in the storm. Max’s speech about how great the crowd of young people was, is quite inspirational and sincere. But as soon as the area was washed out by the rains, his wife was setting up a water hose to fill up people’s containers with tap water at 50 cents a bottle. Good old Yankee ingenuity.
At one point I felt illuminated to share the idea that we could pass around a huge box and if everyone there donated whatever money they could spare, we could have enough millions of dollars to buy the adjacent land and create our own "Woodstock Nation". I dropped the idea after a few tokes and the reaction of enough people that I approached who told me that it was a silly notion since "the whole world would soon be like Woodstock". Who in their right minds indeed would not want to live a life of peace, love, and happiness?
So that brings me full circle in asking myself what did happen. Why did CSNY mean so much when they said "almost cut my hair" and "teach your children well?" Not wanting to violate the rights we learned to free ____expression, I do not wish to condemn or judge anyone else in my opinion. Perhaps my perceptions are painted by my own life strokes and do not fit into the script of other paths in life. What I do know though is that I felt a commitment and sacred trust with the many that had gathered at Woodstock to never compromise the values that we were sharing that day. For me it has been a wonderful journey of being as true to the lifestyle then as today. Okay so my beard is now white and I can’t see the song titles on the cds too clearly, but I sure am glad to be listening still to Jimi Hendrix, Ritchie Havens and the rest of the troubadours of truth. And what is even more delightful is sharing the music with my children as well. Just like a work of art in a museum, a masterpiece remains timeless and is appreciated forever. Those days and the music the Muses inspired were not just shallow entertainment of the moment to fade among the fads of time, but to be respected and enjoyed as true blessings from above.
Just as with the "Woodstock" movie that we have seen several times, what a joy last night to watch the "Song Remains The Same" with our daughters and to be air guitaring and head shaking as vigorously as ever. Unfortunenly a dark cloud came across too many of the people that at that time were at Woodstock or were influenced by it. Concern for others and the planet became a passing fad. Fear of not being able to pay credit card bills for useless junk rather than live out of the system, home school the children, still sit on the back fence of the farm playing music and singing with friends. Fear of this and fear of that have turned too many of our generation into today’s sheeple. I feel that if one still has a breath left, they can look in the mirror then close your eyes and remember what it felt to be alive at Woodstock. Take a stand. Don’t be a hippy-crite but a "born again hippie" my friend. It’s your one and only life so do it right for your sakes and for your children’s. Sit down and tell them the truth about those times. Tell them about how mushrooms can lead to inspiration as well as delicious pasta sauce. How good it feels to give and share rather than drop bombs and steal. Tell them what they can gain by hearing those interesting musical clues in the good songs we know so well. Tell them why it’s fine to let your hair drop freely down your back, wear old clothes and live close to nature and not be trapped by the 9-5 rat race. Oral tradition is an important need to be passed down through the generations. All you need to know was and is right there in Woodstock. I would cherish the opportunity to relive every moment of those days and feel it to be as true to who I am then as to who I am now.
Awhile back I had the honor to meet Swami Satchidananda, the Indian holy man who demonstrated to the crowd on stage between a set change how to do yogic breathing. I jokingly told him that I had thought him to be a rock musician at the concert. Whereupon this saintly old man picked up a couple of rocks from the ground and kept banging them together while hopping around and singing "it’s true I was and am a rock musician still". And indeed the Spirit does live on.
Peace, Love, and Justice
George Douvris

A song for Gram

Hey you,
roadie pilgrim that follows that star in the western skies
Don´t forget it´s shining more brightly at the cold dawn
Keep your attention, just that moment, when the sun arise
Can you hear that voice singing above Mojave sands?

"Warm evenings, pale mornings with a bottle of blues"
Fine and mellow, shakes softly your stoned heart
And a million of Nudie rhinestones claim your dues
on each and every little drop of American dew.

Take care to manage that “deadly Denver bend”,
Although “we all got wheels to take ourselves away”
But your hands must be firm and your eyes open wide,
Farther along from Boulder it´s placed Cheyenne.

Me and not heading west “to grow up with the country”
So faraway over that deep blue Atlantic sea,
Where “truckers, kickers and cowboy angels”
Only could be found high on whiskey daydreams

But some sleepless nights when the sky is clear
My burning throat spread impossible tunes,
Flowing to the west, across the eternal Milky Way
Riding diligent on chords, sounding just for you

Homemade country youtube playlist

Hay más "homemade country music" en este enlace www.youtube.com/cozmicfolkfan