Devilyouknow, Poet Laureate, themesong, Todd Snider
In Memoir, Music, me, Me, ME! on May 6, 2010 at 9:38 pm
I bought a copy of this poster at the show and it now hangs in my home office.
Yeah, this is a re-post, albeit a different version — one that also requires me to use my old method of posting.
For those who’ve been napping, let me summarize: Todd Snider = my personal poet laureate. Named the blog after his song for several reasons.
I dredge it back up for a couple reasons: Mainly, I just discovered that in a clever-as-hell business move, Todd is now posting and selling mp3s and FLACs of every show he does for less than $10. Today I downloaded his show from The Granada back in January.
This version of “Devil” is slower than the speed-thrash original, meaning that a casual listener can actually hear the lyrics (and perhaps surmise my bad-neighborhood-populist-hopeful-doubter kinsip with the song). But thanks to backing band Great American Taxi, it retains the right energy.
“The Devil You Know”
I also mention it because, per an email from Todd’s site yesterday, he has a benefit single for his adopted hometown of Nashville. Dammned if I can find it anywhere on his site (or elsewhere for that matter).
april, banjo, chesapeakebayretriever, chessie, dogs, dysplasia, family, love
In Fam, Memoir on July 28, 2009 at 11:26 am
My favorite photo of Banjo. After a long play, he'd want to float regally on his raft, which we called "George," after the actor George Raft. We're weird like that.
As a kid, I never had a dog, or any pet for that matter. My mom was terrified of cats, and perhaps had OD’d on pets as a child, as my grandfather kept everything from dogs to monkeys to bears to sheep as housepets. I got a cat on graduating from college: Buffett is now sixteen years-old and looks likely to dance on my grave someday. But it was April who brought dogs into my world.
April and I married in October of 1999, right as we were moving to Charlotte in my first attempt to start a business. Her first birthday as my wife was a couple months later, and it was clear that she wanted a dog — not just any dog, but a Chesapeake Bay Retriever.
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autobiography, history, selfindulgence, talltales
In Memoir, me, Me, ME! on January 20, 2009 at 3:32 pm
A quick note to explain a series of posts to follow:
I’ve threatened (and been encouraged by friends) over the years to write some sort of autobiographical tome that spins some of the stranger yarns from my youth in North Carolina and my career (to date) in the media biz. It’s not that I’m necessarily the most interesting fellow on the block, but I had a quirky cast of friends and relatives growing up. And three media startups/relaunches have provided plenty of fodder. I’ve always imagined it as a more-focused / less-briliant David Sedaris kinda thing.
So I’m going to start dribbling out a few posts on my blog to get a feel for the material I’ve got at hand. Feel free to ignore or write it off as cheap therapy for an egomaniac. But also feel free to comment and give me some feedback on the work product as it trudges along.
Meantime, one ground rule: For the time being, I’m going to follow a practice of changing names to protect the guilty. I’ll italicize any such names in the text.
