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“House At Pooneil Corners” – Jefferson Airplane
(c)1968 From the album “Crown of Creation”
Since last night I was thinking of going to Swan Oyster Depot on Polk Street in San Francisco. Around 1:45 this afternoon while working on an electronic music remix project and not making any progress, I thought it might just be the right time. I was going to get some chowder to go if there was still a line, but when i walked up there was only one couple waiting to be seated, and the guy saw me walk up and before i decided if i was still going to be getting something to go said to me “one?” and ushered me to a single opening at the bar, as there is only a bar to sit at in the tiny place, the original cool to the touch white marble oyster bar installed when they opened in 1911. So this place for one just happened to be right next to Jack Casady of the Jefferson Airplane. He was there by himself too having a cup of chowder and then some oysters on the half shell. I had a bowl of chowder some bread and butter and a pint of Anchor Steam, the Giants were playing on the radio. I thought it was him sitting next to me, but i am always so bad at recognizing people out and about that i doubted myself until he told the oyster man he was playing in Golden Gate Park on Saturday at 12:30, and I realized it was him because I was already planning on seeing him and Jorma in Hot Tuna Electric at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. I leaned over and said “You’re Jack Casady, right?” and he said “guilty as charged”…
I said something about how i love his work, and “that early Jefferson Airplane stuff is… you know…” and he said knowingly a long drawn out “yes”… He cleaned his hand to shake hands with me and then gave me the personal plug like anyone in a band big or small does and told me he is playing with Hot Tuna Electric at 12:30 on Saturday at HSBGF in the park, I said i was already planning on it, and he said “Maybe I will see you there”. I left him alone to eat in our close elbow to elbow quarters, and all i could think of was the devastating bass line to the song “House at Pooneil Corners” from the album “Crown Of Creation”. He seemed amiable enough to converse further, but i could only think of “dun dun dun dun- DA da dun dun dun dun da da”.
Here is a film shot by Jean Luc-Godard in 1968 in New York City:
(Nice Hat!)

Get the original on iTunes:
House at Pooneil Corners (track 11)

Here are two more Jefferson airplane videos I really like:

This next one should be an entry unto itself, as it was stuck in my head for a long time once:

My Brown Shoes
Frank Zappa and the mothers of invention famously said “brown shoes don’t make it” . Only one of my brown shoes didn’t make it Thanksgiving night. it was run over in the driveway to the ill fated old Jack Tar Hotel, now known as The Cathedral Hill Hotel. The jack Tar once a symbol of space age modernity is old and dumpy now and going to be torn down. My brown shoes once a symbol of normalcy that i only put on to feel that “brown shoe feeling”, i kept safely up on a shelf, and only put them on to walk around the apartment, or to wear while dining on Thanksgiving at my friends beautiful house where people still dress to dine, at least on one day of the year.
I had a couple of cups of coffee after stuffing myself with turkey,stuffing, potatoes, Veuve Cliquot, and a few pieces of pie. I put my walking shoes back on to go to the car and drive home, carrying the brown shoes in the water bottle holders of my rucksack. Parked my car in cathedral hill where there is more civilized parking and began to walk the almost five blocks to my apartment. The weight of the evening coming off of me almost all at once. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and i insisted on aquirring and cooking the turkey to ensure that that part of the day went as i wanted it to, ne needed it to. My friends do Thanksgiving right, and everything fell right into place even better than i expected (needed). The symbol complete. I noticed somewhere along Geary street that i had lost a shoe. I panicked. i combed up and down, but those blocks are dark. I went home. One of my symbols of things going ok was now horribly incomplete. I didn’t sleep. I thought of my shoe languishing on a dark sidewalk, i thought i might just buy another pair, The heavy fog turned into mist and then a light rain. In the morning I walked up to where i parked hoping with my fingers crossed that my shoe was safely still inside my car, but as i got to the driveway of the ill fated Jack Tar/Cathedral Hill Hotel, there it was right by the curb, dejected and flat. Not destroyed, still quite wearable, but with a flattened toe, not the shiny bulbous toe of its twin. I carried it home like a wounded bird, some scruffy men sitting on the sidewalk drinking said, “hey man, spare a shoe?”

The Brown Shoe (that didn't make it)

video titled The November sequence here…

Dog Food For The Soul - Acrylic on canvas screen print 2009 Brian Cox

Brian Cox 2009 18X23" Oil and Rust on canvas

Dilling and Klump, Studio City Ca