....

I am unloved by the one person I need love from.

Wanda Jackson and Jack: His newest Loretta?

http://sharebee.com/e2b9be3f

Click here for motor home ugly.

So the latest news about Jack White isn't that the White Stripes will be playing again. Unfortunately, it isn't that the dreadful Dead Weather has disbanded. It's not about his collaboration with some R&B singer either.

Actually, depending on how you look at it, the news that he's going to produce old school and still kicking, Rockabilly gal, Wanda Jackson might be a good thing. I say might because some may be a bit skeptical as whether or not he can top his work on Van Lear Rose. This isn't to say that Wanda Jackson isn't incredible. She's as true as a pistol whip. It's nice to see JW is working with someone who can bring out the best in him.

As most of my readers know, he has been really freaking me out for a while now, but once again I'm going to have faith. I also hear that he trying to produce a Rolling Stones record...

I'm still hoping that him and Greg cartwright sit down for coffee someday soon.

Anyway kittens, here's a nice little Wanda Jackson album to get you acquainted with the woman who most people refer to as "The Queen of Rockabilly." She dated Elvis. I don't know why that's weird right now.

More Des Roar!

Here's a nice little story about these bastards that I managed to dig up. Enjoy it!

http://brooklynrail.org/2009/11/music/des-roar-unleashes-mad-things

A report from young November.

Again, I'll reiterate that Ohrobot is a man. I am a man who enjoys thinking about shish kebabs and warm, NYC pretzels at the corner of 42nd. and 8th. I wish I could recall the vendor's name. Every night... there I was, from no matter where I was, I'd be there waving money in a middle eastern guys face trying to buy his meat and flour. I'm sure it was the spice that kept me coming back... or was it the ritual?

I'm leaning towards the latter on that one. I say that because I'm prone to habit. Not only that, but I'm such a repeater that I end up repeating the most unrepeatable things you could imagine. Not so much words.. more like, situations. It's crazy. My heart is an ox.

Right now I'm sitting like the Land O' Lakes indian and instead of holding butter (ad overkill) I'm typing. I'm listening to Mazzy Star. Does that make me emo? Hell no.

I'm a man that likes walking around town alone. When I was young, I'd take a bunch of acid and walk through Macy's at 34th street during the busy hours. Coincidentally, every single hour that that store is open, it's a busy hour. Anyway, I'd walk in there, barely able to contain a smile. 1000 volts surging through me at the same time. I'd purposely bump into as many people as I could because with each impact came a supercharge of pure feeling.

It sounds hippy, but it's true. For me and for you.

I can't remember an actual number, but it is estimated that at least 64% of each week was spent playing human pinball bumper. I can't imagine their security team. They were so lame that they didn't notice the same guy coming in there all the time and never buying anything. Suckaz.

Since I'm sharing... I'm also the type of guy that'll put a slice of processed american cheese on a banana. Go ahead and snicker. Try it. Speaking of food... my days of being the guy that cooks his meat on the driveway because he has a vegan family are over. The windiness we've been getting out here could prove to be an enemy of a $5.00 mini-barbecue grill. That would be all I need. Now I am the guy that eats his food someplace else. It ain't cheap neither.

And did you know...

When I dream, I dream of fighting. All of the fucking time. It could be a dream where I'm using a silver studded brush to comb the wondrous mane of a golden unicorn and somehow, some way I end up fighting for my life or fighting for the lives of others. I must admit... I'm quite the Ninja at times. Though other times my hands are like Mickey Mouse hands and no matter how hard I swing, when they connect they're as soft as a cotton ball. So weird...

Lately I've been the carrier of a heavy heart. No particular reason... just the times and how they've come to be.

It's a messy staircase, this life. Watch your footing or you'll end up in a smash.
Isn't that great advice? Apply it toward anything and anyone!

Here is a common view for me...

Videos of the week!!!! !

Coachwhips - Hands on the controls



King Khan & BBQ - Waddlin' around




Jessica Lea Mayfield - Kiss me again

Johnny Powers - Long blonde hair

http://sharebee.com/6a969ffc

Click here for a student animal.

"Well, I love you baby... I love your style... When you walk the bop you drive me wild... I loved you once... I'll love you twice... Big, blonde baby you're awful nice...

Well, long blonde hair... rose red lips... When you walk the bop my heart just flips... I love you so... I can't let go... Big blonde baby I love you so"

Johnny Powers is another musician in the long line of Michigan Rock N' Roll demons. Sure, he wasn't breaking new ground back in 1957, but what he did, oh baby, he did so well.

Here's a little fun fact:

Jazzman Stan Getz plays guitar on the title track. On an unrelated note, this is much better choice for the guitar than Bernie Goetz, who may have gotten upset somewhere during the recordings.

Download this shit if you like dark streets, switchblade rumbles, and fine chicks in leather jackets.

Secret Messages # 537

It's unpleasant when you come to the realization that you wouldn't feel guilty for turning your back on those who take you for granted. However, it's strangely comfortable. Or so I would imagine.

Happy Halloween! Don't get arrested!

Cristina Rosenvinge - Frozen Pool

http://sharebee.com/961509f4

Click here for ghost meat stew

Oh, what's this? Well, it looks like Ohrobot is having an indie pop morning. Today I'd like you to give a listen to Ms. Cristina Rosenvinge and her album "Frozen Pool."

Originally released in 2001, this album can comfortably sit on your shelves alongside your Mazzy Star and your Camera Obscura records without drawing any attention to itself. That said, it's a wonderful album that received absolutely no attention from the planet. Hopefully today is the day that you become intrigued. She began her career as a musician with the Latin folk group "Cristina y los subterraneos" and as you can see, started a solo career later on.

If I could command that you play a particular track off of this album first, it would be Expensive shoes.

Play it. Play it now! I command you!

Involved read: Eight arms.

When the octopus grabbed hold of Kenny's leg I knew he'd had it. I could see his skin turning blue and I'll never forget the look on his face when we were trying to pull him back in the boat; despair. There's no other way to describe it. His eyes went hollow. It was kind of like looking at one of those photos of a road that seems to go on forever, you know? Maybe he was giving the once in a lifetime chance to die look? He didn't even scream. All of the yelling was coming from Sarah and me. We never even got the chance to see the damn thing either! I thought we'd tear his arm off, the way we yanked him toward us, but it was obvious that he was a goner. When he finally went under his face hit the side of the boat and then he was suddenly not there anymore. Sarah went nuts! I couldn't even do anything about it because I couldn't move. I wasn't catatonic, but I just sat there with my mouth open trying to process what just happened. She collapsed and with a panicked tone she started telling me that we had to get back to land. I followed her instructions and took us back to the dock. We didn't speak the rest of the way. I stared straight ahead and she just kept staring into the black water.

That night, after a trip to the Police station to explain what happened to our friend, I'll never forget the look on this one cop's face when I told him that Kenny was taken by an octopus. It was obvious that he didn't believe me, but Sarah had a huge meltdown and he started treating us like the victims instead of possible murder suspects. After about an hour or so, Sarah took me home and she cried the whole way there. We didn't listen to the radio. I started to come to terms with the whole thing after I got out of her car and started up the driveway toward my house. Before I put my key in the door I started to worry about her. In her state she's liable to drive off of a cliff and not realize it because it's hard to see the road when your eyes are full of tears. I called her cellphone and listened to it ring clearly from both my phone and from somewhere down at the end of my driveway. She never left. I walked around the front of the car as her friend, but I suddenly had a flash of a sexual image in my head. I thought about holding her, comforting her... kissing her. It's sometimes messed up the way the mind works. Six hours ago her and Kenny were were kissing. He had her at the front of the boat with his hands all over her ass and his tongue shoved down her throat. Coincidentally, her throat was part of the sexual image that flashed into my head earlier; blow job.

After keeping silent for most of the day, she finally spoke. She asked if she could spend the night with me. I was at the crossroads indeed. Is it betraying a friend if he's dead and his girlfriend comes around looking for a little comfort and a stiff cocktail or four? Of course I said yes. Not referring to anything remotely referring to betrayal, I said yes about her spending the night. The next morning we had a few cups of coffee and replayed last night to each other. We spoke about everything from the octopus to the blow job I didn't get. It was weird... we were sad, but we were laughing. She left in one of my shirts. After she left I tried to straighten up my place a bit. Got half of it done before trading off in favor of a good nap.

A few days went by and I hadn't heard from Sarah. We both needed some time to mourn, so not seeing each other was normal, she wasn't really a close friend anyway. She was just Kenny's girlfriend that he brought along once in a while, but I just had to know if she was okay. I went by her house and noticed her little blue car sitting in front. That meant she was home. That girl never went anywhere that she couldn't drive to. I knocked for a while and gave up. Was she sleeping? Taking a bath? I waited outside for forty five minutes before calling it quits. When I got home I called the police to anonymously report a burglary in progress at Sarah's house. I'd have to make the cops stumble upon her. Little did I know that she would be discovered dead on her living room couch surrounded by a bunch of pill bottles. Even the news came around. It was the big thing: Woman found dead Apparent Suicide! At least she died with her clothes on, I thought.

Their faces are stuck in my head all the time now. I can't even make a sandwich without seeing Ken's face in my jar of mayo. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I only see Sarah when I'm in the shower. Since they died I feel really lonely. I have other friends, but Kenny and I were the tightest. We grew up together. We were on the same sports teams, ate dinner at each others house. When we got older we messed around with a couple of the same girls, sometimes at the same time. I miss him a whole lot. Did he suffer much? I hope not. The whole thing happened pretty quick, but at the time it felt like we were pulling at his arm for two days. I don't go out on the boat anymore either. It's been sitting at the dock with a for sale sign on it for about four months now. Sometimes my imagination runs off and I think that people might know that someone died on it and that's why nobody wants to buy it. A few weeks ago a couple of policemen knocked at my door to let me know that they still haven't found his body yet, but they were able to recover his wallet. They handed it to me in a small, clear bag. The only reason they brought it to me was because before we got on the boat I asked him if he'd hold my drivers license for me and it was still in there right next to his. Since the only family he had left was an alcoholic brother who didn't give a crap who lived or died as long as he could be a miserable drunk, I got it. When the cops talked to him, he told them he didn't want anything from anybody. So the cops told me that they felt I should be the rightful owner. After they left I decided to go through it and noticed that there was nine dollars in it. I just broke down and cried. It was that exact moment when the gravity of this whole thing knocked me off of my seat. I called Sarah. She wasn't home.

Mickey & Ludella's Bedlam A - Go - Go

http://sharebee.com/3b604da0

Click here for scooter lessons.

Ludella Black and Mickey Hampshire are two of England's most rockin' inhabitants. The former being an integral part of The Delmonas and Thee Headcoatees alongside Miss Holly Golightly before embarking on a solo career. Not much has changed except maybe that her solo work is a little more "focused."

The latter, Mickey Hampshire, is a founding member of Thee Milkshakes, Thee Headcoats, and The Masonics. He's proven over the years that real Rock N' Roll pumps through his veins in a major way. It's that Medway sound the kids go nutso for!

These two have teamed up on a whole bunch of stuff, but this my friends... this was Ludella's first record without her homegirls... word.