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[18 Nov 2009 | Wednesday]
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Current mood:  exhausted
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
We're proud to announce that Illinois John Fever is issuing its
first release, NOW IS NOT THE WAY IT IS, due via the internets everywhere
sometime in mid-December! Stay tuned for updates....
.. ..
And now that the CD is finished, it's high time we kick off our next
project: First off, we've torn down the recording studio while Bobber guts and rebuilds
the inside of his house. This is the second time we've dismantled the studio in
as many years but its new home will be permanent (and a helluva lot bigger) once
when we rebuild this winter.
.. ..
Meanwhile, we've got things rolling at Studio B, located in Tucker’s
basement, taping to our 2-track hi-fi VHS field recorder. Mm, we like it: It
gives all the warm love of analog while providing none of the technology to
which we've grown accustomed. The guerrilla approach also fits the stripped-down
nature of our street-material, which gets featured on the next recording.
Hope everybody's well.
LOVE, ILLINOIS JOHN FEVER
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[22 Jul 2009 | Wednesday]
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Current mood:  grateful
Category: Music
Holy smokes -- that was the best weekend we've had. And we mean ever in our entire lives. Like Dr. Bob says, it was like we'd won some kinda million dollar sweepstakes. From July 15-19, more than 70 bands from around the world performed at the Cabooze in Minneapolis, MN, for the third annual Deep Blues Festival. Most of the Old Dudes are bad-asses tied directly into the earliest history of the blues from the Hills and the Delta. Meanwhile, most of the younger players apparently grew up rocking out to Dead Kennedys and the Stooges, and the crossbreed of sounds at the Festival is unlike any mainstream blues. "It's not smooth. It's not Chicago," to quote Chris Johnson, the man who pulled it all together.
DAY ONE -- THURSDAY We landed at the Cabooze Thursday night, arriving late but in time to check out Restavrant, and those bad-asses from Left Lane Cruiser, and Iowa boys Radio Moscow. Lute Tucker and the Kid wandered around gladhanding folks and lifting beers in the green room. Meanwhile, Dr. Bob snuck around chatting up Chris Johnson and the bar staff, arranging for us to play a guerilla set on the patio soon as the music quits inside. So we get going and now here come the music lovers gathering round as they filter out of the club, everybody getting their boogie on. And then this crowd parts to make way for an old dude who comes leaning on his cane, smiling in his gleeful way. Hallelujah -- it's T-Model Ford, the Taildragger, and here he comes to sit in front of us, to listen to us play. Words are not fit to describe the honor. For example, Tucker started hollering "Aw hells yah!" soon as he saw who it was.
And that's when T-Model waved for Tucker to hand over his guitar, "What the hell's this? I play in E." So after tuning the thing to standard, T-Model took the guitar and broke into a three-song set, everybody going quiet to hear his fingers light the strings. Then like magic, the Kid started his dobro, picking out T-Model's notoriously rambling lines while Dr. Bob came banging on his street kit, and soon folks were clapping and dancing, and Tucker was stomping his shambourine on the bricks, screaming like a berserker, "Aw hells yah!" And when he was through, T-Model sat down to play just one more and jumped right into "Chicken Head Man." Anyone who has seen T-Model perform has seen the way he stares grinning into the crowd, making eye contact with everybody, tilting his head and lighting his eyes when suddenly he drops a beat and brings the song back to I. And that’s how he looked at us playing with him, nodding and grinning because we were following him along best as we could. Crazy….none of us has any memory of what went down after T-Model leaned away on his cane. We think we played some songs, and a bunch of folks hung around, and soon the bartender was kicking all of us out, so let’s go back to the hotel. But our souls had been lit on fire, and we couldn’t stop from giggling at every goddam thing.
Tucker then runs into the infamous Dale Beavers who is need of someone driving his vehicle back to the hotel across town. And Tucker, who makes his money as a cab driver, takes him up on the gig, nearly crashing into the Hamline viaduct while listening to a private recording of Dale playing bass with Junior Kimbrough. We go screaming along, barking about how mind-blowing it is to play music with heroes.
Back at the hotel, we catch up with our pal Smokestack and the Foothill Fury, an explosive one-man-band who is punk as fuck. The name his act makes him sound like a full band whereas our name makes us sound like one dude, and that isn’t the only corollary between us. We’ve played with him in Iowa City and Smokey’s a lot of fun. Tonight, he carried along a jeraboam of strong dark beer he’d scored from playing at a brew house and he shared it with us. Dale also had booze to share and we had whisky and cigarettes, etc. There’s more here but the narrative gets spotty. Dr. Bob went to crash and the Kid stayed up plinking at his dobro while Tucker marched off with Smokey and Dale for mischief in Chris Cotton’s room until we were kicked on down the road, and onto tomorrow....
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[16 Jan 2009 | Friday]
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Current mood:  rebellious
This here's a quote from the insightful CORNEL WEST, and we believe it fits the profile of IJF quite nicely:
Q: So you’re optimistic about the future? A: The categories of optimism and pessimism don’t exist for me. I’m a blues man. A blues man is a prisoner of hope, and hope is a qualitatively different category than optimism. Optimism is a secular construct, a calculation of probability. Black folk in America have never been optimistic about the future – what have we had to be optimistic about? But we are people of hope. Hope wrestles with despair, but it doesn’t generate optimism. It just generates this energy to be courageous, to bear witness, to see what the end is going to be. No guarantee, unfinished, open-ended. I am a prisoner of hope. I’m going to die full of hope. There’s no doubt about that, because that is a choice I make. But at the same time, the end doesn’t look too good right now.
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[16 Jan 2009 | Friday]
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Current mood:  argumentative
From GUIDE FOR THE SEEKER by Richard Hittleman:
"You find yourself existing in a dimension of constant threat and danger. You are beset on all sides by endless problems which, in your delusion, you attempt to resolve with the very instrument that creates them. You seek to Know and Understand, but you cannot because you are eternally separated, in a subject-object relationship, from that which you would Know. Through a universal conspiracy--in which you unknowingly participate--you accept these situations as 'the natual course of events,' as 'life.' Hypnotized by the self-appropriated authority of ordinary mind immersed and believing in not only one but many 'selves' which ordinary mind manufactures and maintains, you subscribe unquestionably to its illusory propositions. Among these fantasies, the doctrine of DESIRE-ACTION-FULFILLMENT convinces you that it is natural and necessary to strive for happiness, success, pleasure, and security, that such elusive objectives can be achieved through the right kind of action, and that somehow your achievements can be made permanent. So, dutifully complying with the party line of the conspiracy, you experience incessant desires that compel you to undertake the incessant actions dictated for their gratification. But because your desires are interminable, because your actions can never truly satisfy these desires, and because you seek what is ultimate and permanent in a state where only constant impermanence and fluctuation obtain, you suffer. You suffer throughout not only this lifetime, but throughout an infinite number of lifetimes.
"How does one awaken from this illusion, this dream of self, to that Reality which is his/her true and eternal nature? By total abandonment of all that is of the not-Self."
....
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