dave van ronk eluded again, bet you don’t give a damn. dirty stairs, rundown village, dusty tiffany chandeliers, youre still the mayor of macdougal, playing the gaslight. where music was passion, a cesspit of protest folk blues, the real scene. improvising fingers on the neck piano, you took the white bread tainted jazz back acoustic. howlin, whisperin, trapped on the folkway. arrested at stonewall, throat coated in tullamore dew, they still denied your name. but there you are in your song, whatever you wanted to be, another story. you told your own story, lowlife double entendre ballads to blues, that’s how to know your time in greenwich. buckets of moonbeams and rain fall, your name eluded again. i made you say it again, painting is space, music is time! walking washington square with the losers hustling down dave van ronk street.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 20:20:28 +0000
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