Deadlines, Blogs, and Jackals

 

The trivia question for this week is, What famous Detroit songwriter and rocker was very good friends and a co-writer with Bob Seger, also from Detroit?

I am a big Bob Seger fan. I remember when he took a sabbatical from the music business for about ten years to spend time with his wife and two young children and have always respected him for doing that. When he toured again, I remember him saying that one of the main reasons for doing so was because his children wanted to see their dad rock out on stage. The song “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band, on the 1980 album Against the Wind, was the highest ranking single from the album, peaking at #5, and it’s interesting to note that Glenn Frey of the Eagles sang background vocals on this song. In this song, he writes about deadlines and commitments, what to leave in and what to leave out.

It is still rare in my life, as it always has been, that I have to adhere to deadlines or commitments. There is a price you pay if you don’t play and part of that price is financial, but perhaps the bigger part in the wild and wacky world of radio is I will never be recognized as one of the greats, though some who told me I could have been might also be slightly deaf and more than slightly nuts. But as singer-songwriter Robert Earl Keen wrote and singer-songwriter Jonathan Edwards recorded “My Home Ain’t in the Hall of Fame.”

I have absolutely, positively no regrets about my choices, and the only reason for writing about this now is because it is one of those times when a deadline came sooner than expected. Along with a myriad of other hurdles that occurred at the same time, I found myself in competition for best tail chaser with my cat Chloe. So I stayed up late last night and wrote my blog, something I usually don’t need to do until three or four days down the road. It was a good blog, I must say, and funny in places, but it is not this blog. It is not this blog because I got up this morning to find that instead of saving it I must have deleted it, and it was no place to be found. So I did something I used to do a lot (and no, that was not crying and having a nervous breakdown). I wrote a poem. It’s an ode to fall, or WTF with changing the clocks, and here it is.

A JACKAL ON MY GRAVE

Fall’s curtain

Too soon descends

In the middle

Of the third act.

The lights dim,

Darkness hiding

A good actor

In a bad play.

Smothering

His final words,

He bows,

Expecting no roses,

No standing cheers,

No encore,

No bravo.

In early dark

Shadows dance

Way too soon.

Mistress of light

Will have her way

To prance

Like a jackal

On my grave.

 

In the podcast I’ll have the answer to the trivia question and as always some rock and roll news and history and other stuff. I hope you’ll join me on the shores of Rambling Harbor.

 

 

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