Title: The Trasfiguration of Blind Joe Death
Artist: John Fahey
Year: 1965
Somedays are too ****ing humid, the air seems to stick like plastic wrap and the wind is continually whispering lukewarm breezes my way. On days such as these I find John Fahey to be the best cold pad for my swelling welt of annoyance, or for any other time the little things in life tempt me to participate in mass murder.
There is something very vital to this album, besides the fact that it's one of the greatest works of back roads strummin' to come in the wake of the the last century. The album is mostly made up of sentimental and almost preaching acoustic works which almost seem to represent a certain sensation, or in my case prick of feeling that comes with the twists one pretentious ******* like myself regularly experiences day-to-day.
But don't misunderstand me, despite the shift that seems to occur in this man's modest picking the album conveys specific images, not unlike the roaming bearded weirdos we usually see prowling the streets with cracked guitars on their backs.
John Fahey's guitar style is not easy to place, it's far from traditional but it retains that scratch that old blues thrived upon, but at the same time breaches out with technical soundscapes which remind me of ragged coyotes nipping at the corpses of hapless anteaters for some odd reason. . .
But we later gave that the name of experimental, well not me but someone did.
I'm too lazy to say or show anything else, but I promise my next entries to more attributed to a BAMF.
But for now, I'll wrap up by giving this album.
Out of a. . .
