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| Photo by Michael Young--Ozark Photos Blog |
I'm still working the metaphors, crafting and work shopping at the writing conference, but I've scheduled something special for you: Southern rock imbued with Ozark musical heritage and tradition, like squirrel potpie, duck hunting, fried catfish, and Ozark jig-dancing.
But first—from today's dump truck of poems—a gift:
Casabianca
by Elizabeth Bishop
Love's the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite “The boy stood on
the burning deck.” Love's the son
stood stammering elocution
while the poor ship in flames went down.
Love's the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too,
or an excuse to stay
on deck. And love's the burning boy.
And now, a group of friends introduced to me by Anthony Bourdain—via a recent Ozarks episode from No Reservations: Ha Ha Tonka. (As in Ha Ha Tonka State Park of the band's native Missouri.)
From their latest release, Death of a Decade, songs reflective of small town southern life:
About their new album (from their website):
Thematically, Death of a Decade is less “story-based” than Ha Ha Tonka’s previous work (which pulled heavily from Missouri history and folklore for its lyrics), with the band now focusing on the transition into manhood—something that doesn’t automatically come once you pass a certain age: “I realize that youth is wasted on the young,” Roberts sings on “Westward Bound,” “Oh, I know that now my wasting days are done.”However, Roberts says, Death of a Decade is not meant to be a requiem for lost youth, but rather an embrace of the notion that the passage of time is better than the alternative. There you have it again: the wisdom of the Ozarks.Even if the album’s songs aren’t specifically of the Ozarks, the sound is—still present is the traditional instrumentation (just listen to guitarist Brett Anderson’s arpeggio mandolin lines on “Usual Suspects” and “Made Example Of”), with bassist Lucas Long and drummer Lennon Bone rounding out the rhythm section to stampeding affect. Still present are the spine-tingling four-part gospel harmonies, a signature sound that sets Ha Ha Tonka apart from every other indie band-cum-Southern rock group that seems to be shambling out of the suburban woods these days.
Who said they don't make 'em like they used to?
(Oh the poor ship. Really, the poor ship!)
