Editor’s Note: The following text arrived on my doorstep early Tuesday morning, sealed in an envelope, written in miniscule 10 point font, along with a flash drive containing music samples, an e-version of the text, and several unflattering photos that have since been excised from the document. Buried on a small post-it note somewhere around page 10 was a small note directed to me: “T. Piece is finished. More or less vacant from all mental faculties. Publish as soon as legally accountable. OK here. A.C.B.” At the risk of running afoul of his vengeful wrath, I have published the following piece under the heading of “Blak and Blu: A Music Review” though it should be noted that the actual byline of the piece was enclosed on a successive string of Post-It notes (all colored blue, for some odd reason that seemed important at the time) and directed to headline the page itself; including a rambling editor’s note was optional, yet something that I felt was essential to the integrity of the text, as well as the general strangeness of the weekend itself. It is important to note that, regardless of who or what is involved, the words below are my associate’s own, pure and unfiltered. Take them as you will.
Hendrix is Alive and Well and He Lives in Austin, Texas: Gary Clark Jr. and the Renaissance of the Texas Blues; A Complicatedly Simple Study of the Condensing of American Music Tropes into a Wholly Original and Wholly Impressive New Sound That Will Soon Shake Your Windows and Rattle Your Walls; a Further Study of the Road and Its Dangers Whilst in Pursuit of the Glory of the New as the Times are Changing
A Review by A.C. Bromfield
1. The Inciting Incident…Trouble in Paradise…The Needle is Broken.
https://www.youtube.com/user/garyclarkjr?feature=watch
Chicago is built for the inclement weather that strikes at any and all opportunities, a condition in which the city residents worship the angry gods of the Northwest that regularly send down the cold fronts of Arctic ice that pulverize their bodies and shake them to their bones. It is not unusual to emerge from one’s apartment into a frigid, icy wasteland, something that would be highly irregular on a May day in, say, Cincinnati, Ohio. However, these are things that the good denizens of the Windy City have grown to accept, paying homage with clasped hands at the El stations dotting the urban landscape.
I hate this weather.
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