“…’cause she loves the classics and they’re pretty dirty…” ~ Mark Grist

I grant you the accent by itself is cheating because it tends to make us yank girls melty, but even the roll-my-eyes cynic in me can’t help being a little charmed.

Damn it.

It is about to become a felony to engage in what a big company thinks should be considered copyright infringement. The people who support SOPA insist that the law is not intended to go after small time offenders but there’s nothing in the text of the law to support that. This is the same reasoning that says child porn laws are only about going after the worst criminals. So why do teenagers get busted for sending half-dressed photos of themselves to their boyfriends and girlfriends?

If the middle men at movie and music studios want to bully those outside of US borders, then let them use the billions they’ve made inflating the copyright laws of the US to do it. They don’t need a law that allows them to cry wolf at any search engine or website that links to something they don’t like.

These are people who have been on the wrong side of history for decades. They fought the invention of television and radio. They fought digital goods until they had no choice. These are not the innovators protecting discovery and innovation. These are the old, rich, no-talent middle men who want to drag technology out as long as possible so they can milk the system of every drop because they have no skill except buying talent cheap and selling it at a huge mark up to consumers.

If we give it to them, we’re going to get exactly what we deserve. Their world. Bought and packaged. For them.

“The idea of copyright did not exist in ancient times, when authors frequently copied other authors at length in works of non-fiction. This practice was useful, and is the only way many authors’ works have survived even in part.” ~ Richard Stallman

“I can’t play. You’re looking at me.” ~ Jackson C. Frank

I have always been a throwback when it comes to music. I inherited albums that most of my peers in high school had never heard of. When I “came of age” in the 80s I flirted with light punk and enjoyed aerosol rock and pretended not to like any of the pop music, but what I really enjoyed and listened to over and over were my Dad’s records. Bob Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel, Jim Croce, Cat Stephens, Joan Baez, etc. Bear in mind there was no Elliott Smith or Soul Coughing yet. Music in the 80s had no poetry in its soul. So I had to turn back to find it.

I can say, with some measure of confidence that I have an extensive knowledge of folk rock from the 1960s and 70s American scene. I love coffee house players and folk music festival obscure numbers, so I know a lot of songs that musicians who played the eras often haven’t heard; I pretty much operate under the theory that if it was good, I know it.

So how the hell have I never heard of Jackson C. Frank?

While watching a movie preview for an upcoming release (Martha Marcy May Marlene), there is a clip of John Hawkes playing a haunting song called “Marcy’s Song” that I’d never heard. I immediately Googled some of the lyrics and found Hawkes’ performance embedded on a site. It took some additional Googling to get the name “Jackson C. Frank” in connection with the lyrics. And then the adventure began.

Mr. Frank had one self-titled album back in 1965 which wasn’t re-released until the late 70s. It was produced by Paul Simon (Paul frikkin’ Simon). As it turned out, I had heard two of his songs without ever knowing they were his. One, “Blues Run the Game” which I’ve always assumed was one of Simon’s and “Kimbe” which I heard but didn’t know the origins of.

His story is gut-wrenching and includes being caught in a school fire at age eleven (which he survived, but was left with burns over half his body), being diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, enduring homelessness and poverty in later years — as well as taking a stray pellet to the eye in his 40′s from kids messing around with pop guns at random.

You can hear the minglings of Simon influence in many of the cuts (or possibly we were hearing Frank influence in Simon’s songs, who knows?). The most poignant for me is called “I Want To Be Alone (Dialogue)” which cannot help but inspire reminders of “I Am a Rock” although this delicate plea is far more powerful than the anthem like declaration of Rock.

Part of me is thrilled to have discovered this guy; it’s like finding buried treasure in an ordinary day. On the other hand, it’s heart-breaking to know that this voice and this individual were lost into obscurity. There is such a toll taken on those for whom the world is too much with them and so often gifts and curses we can only imagine weigh them down to the bottom of their personal oceans.

“I take music pretty seriously. See this scar on my wrist? Know how I got that? I heard the Bee Gees were getting back together; I didn’t want to live anymore.” ~ Dennis Leary

I’m going to hell for re-posting this. But it’s shocking how well this works together.