Blind by Deep Purple: Issa's Sunday Service, #78

I could have never foreseen when I started this series a year and a half ago that, among the first 78 songs to be featured, two would come from the group Deep Purple's self-titled album third album.  Even if that would be the case, why not simply feature songs by other groups that haven't made it on to the Jukebox instead of dipping in the well a 2nd time so early on?

Here's the reason:

I got super busy about a month ago (2 poetry sessions for life-long learners teach - one on haiku, one on Robert Frost - two poetry readings to give, 1 session of 3 Poems by discussion group to participate in, and one lecture at the local library school - all within a span of 3 weeks!) and decided that, since the trusty IPod has over 12k worth of tunes and I often listen on shuffle, I would choose tunes that chose themselves.  In other words, if a Litrock tune got in my face or, more specifically, my ears, that would be the week's selection.  Since I listen to anywhere from 60 to 90 tunes every week walking to and from work, it seemed like a low stress, serendipitous approach to selection.

A go-with-the-flow method, if you will.

This week's tune wasn't even on my Excel list of 400 plus (and still counting - I'm always open to suggestions, folks) Litrock songs, so it was a bonus.

"Blind" is a cut from the days before Deep Purple became hard rock gods - a much more interesting, if decidedly less successful time.   Not that they couldn't rock out - listen to the lead guitar over the wonderful harpsichord on this cut to catch a glimpse of what was right around the corner for this group.  I realize this is hardly a popular pick (with tons of Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, U2, Pink Floyd, Dylan etc to go) but there you go - I didn't pick it, it picked itself.

The Litrock connection I noticed first was the use of the word "poet" and that was going to be enough for me until the myth of Daedalus and Icarus jumped out - it was a forest for the trees situation upon my first listening.

In any case, I have to say if ever there was a great lost Art Rock or Litrock album, this particular one by Deep Purple is it.  And don't take my word for it; just in case you didn't get a chance to click through to the all music guide's review above, let me pull a succinct quote: "This is one of the most bracing progressive rock albums ever."   Plus, it's not everyday that two Hieronymus Bosch artworks appear on this blog at the same time.

I have to say I may go to this well once or twice more time before the Sunday Service wraps up.

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This week's featured poems come from Lilliput Review #116, from March 2001.  Any day with Albert Huffstickler is a good day.  And it certainly is a lot easier to ponder the winsome, wayward vagaries of a fruit fly in mid-November than later August, at least in this neck of the woods.

Enjoy.

    It's good to be
    cold somedays,
    good to feel
    the skin tingle,
    to remember
    how vulnerable
    we are to weather,
    how we and the
    air interpentrate
    each other.

Albert Huffstickler

A fruit fly found me

up seven flights of marble staircases

one crooked hallway

inside a huge cavernous room

under a wooden beamed ceiling

in room

with one tomato.

Kathleen Serocki

And Master Issa:

blindly following
the setting sun...
a frog

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

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