Sonic Cocktail #1 - Captain Beefheart's Vermont Moonshine
Popping the Cork on the Mysterious Elixir of Rock
Booze and rock have been mad, passionate bedfellows since day one. Both pack an intoxicating wallop that have inspired Bible thumpers of every stripe and zip code to guarantee a front-row seat in hell for anyone who falls under the evil influence of either, let alone both. For decades one has happily enabled the other, from Johnny Cash washing down a handful of pills with a gulp of whatever distilled sin was within arm’s reach, to the Wildman of Ferriday, Louisiana, Jerry Lee Lewis, whose golden tresses spilled over his sweaty forehead like a waterfall of bourbon as he pounded the living bejeezus out of his piano. Keith Richards’ snarling guitar riffs on the Stones’ 1972 tour (a legendary chapter of raunch and roll), were fueled by a smorgasbord of uncontrolled controlled substances which he topped off with a glug or two of his favorite “tour water” - Jack Daniels’ Ol’ No. 7.
The best rock and roll is much like the best homemade hooch. It unapologetically rips your skull off with the first sip. It is an unstable volcanic brew, as witnessed by the wild abandon of live performances by Gene Vincent, The Who, and Nirvana, or Bob Dylan yelling to his band to play “Like A Rolling Stone” “fucking loud,” in open defiance of the crowds who booed his new electric sound during his much- maligned tour of England in ’66.
No matter how the preachers and despots continue to twist and shout over the debt we owe the devil for stolen moments of immoral behavior, the unholy alliance of rock ‘n’ roll, and John Barleycorn, as Neil Young and Traffic’s Steve Winwood both sang) “will never die.”
Below is my first installment in a series of recipes to help keep your soul aloft through these mind-numbing times. Here’s how the Sonic Cocktail works: I, your faithful Mixmaster carefully distills the ingredients of the artist/band’s music and personality down to its essence adding whatever metaphors happen to be strewn about my mind at the moment, and serve them straight-up or “neat” if you like, blending historical context, and various minutia into an artful blather that is hopefully more concise and fun than the opinions of the local know-it-all shooting off his mouth down at your neighborhood pub.
Have a wee sip of…
Captain Beefheart’s Vermont Moonshine
Take two shots Howlin' Wolf, one shot Albert Ayler,
and stir in a sparkling gush of Marcel Duchamp’s Nu Descendant une Cascade
Shake aggressively for an indeterminate amount of time
Serve in a fast and bulbous glass and garnish with kandy korn
Suck it all down in one long slurpy sip (careful those vile foamy liquids are potent!)
Smash the remaining contents against the wall while toasting the abstract splatter of
your mad, fleeting life.