I Think You Know

TODD RUNDGREN 18' x 22' Pencil, February 2011

"I Think You Know"

The visitors were never seen
They missed my monologue between
But I think you know
The letters came, the letters went
The last reply was never sent
But I think you know
I can't explain what's in my brain
That tells me where to go
But I think you know

For I would draw a diagram
To signify the things I am
But I think you know
And in the end it all boils down
A useless bit of running 'round
'cause I think you know
And love I send to you my friend
But never tell you so
But I think you know

"I Think You Know"

I love that song. And I really, really like Todd Rundgren.
He had green hair. And pink, a little yellow, some brown and black.
I didn't know this, at first.
All I knew was that my little brother had a 45 rpm record called "I Saw The Light," backed with "Marlene." Both were good songs.

Bearsville

I am the family record collector.  "I Saw The Light" was my brother's ONLY 45 at the time, in 1972. It was from Todd's third album "Something/Anything," which also spawned "Hello It's Me." Played most or all of the instruments himself, too. Nifty.But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I was 11. The 45 had a bear on it. Bearsville records. Dumb name, I thought. Learned later that it was named for Bearsville, N.Y.
Again, ahead of myself.
So my brother Gerry and I bounced around to "I Saw The Light," which was on the radio, and our dad bought for Gerry. Our mother was a comedienne. Tom & Gerry. Get it? You're floored.

There goes Todd

Now, it turns out that Todd was (and is) a pretty prolific guy. He also dabbles in a lot of styles. There is always a pop underpinning, but something spacey is going on. Fuzzed out guitar tones, phased in keyboards by the tons, lots of studio wizardry.
By 1974 I was 13 and in junior high school, and Todd cranked out a half-live album called Utopia. Still had a bear on the label but a cool eyeball and colored orbs on the album cover. It was long and it was deafening and I still love that record. This was the first Todd album to hit my house.  All of the rest have followed.

"Todd" was the double album released about the same time, with the multi-colored hair portrait on the cover. "A Wizard A True Star" had a gatefold with boob pictures and Todd with a heart drawn on his ass.
He'd occasionally show up on TV, with his colored hair and winged outfits and rainbow guitar. People would way things like, "How can such a freaky dude make such sweet music?"
It's because he is a master of the craft and knows just how far to push before people will push back, or disregard. It's always interesting with Todd.

A review. High school.

My first foray into journalism was a review of Todd's "Hermit of Mink Hollow" album, in high school. I refuse to hold that against him. It's not his fault. There are even 39 Todd songs loaded into iTunes on my Mac at work. At a newspaper.

"I don't wanna work, I just wanna bang on the drum all day."

(It's the only Todd song I hate, tho I'm sure it pays his bills.)

This frame is made of wood from a demolished century barn.

GERRY WRITES:

Remember the 45 as well. Mom and Dad got the wrong one the first time, some artist with the Christian theme "I Saw the Light"--the message was good, but not the song.

The first albums I copied on that crappy Realistic piece of shit were Utopia, and... Something-Anything. They played well until the cheap electronics failed, and again in the basement on the trusty mono Panasonic cassette.

Life was simple then. Tomorrow's 6 AM commute will involve deactivation of the XM radio, and a Todd CD for the trip.

Todd is off to a Man Cave in Spain, January 2012.

TODD RUNDGREN, pencil, 2' x 3'  February 2011
For inquiries on this and all other drawings: hankbonesman@embarqmail.com
A Tom Wills Production, 2011.
"I Think You Know" P.C. 1974 Earmark Music/Screen Gems Music

American Finger

"American Finger," February 2011, in Johnny's second frame.

"You've got to know your limitations. I don't know what your limitations are. I found out what mine were when I was 12. I found out that there weren't too many limitations, if I did it my way.” -- Johnny Cash

This is country music, and it's rock and roll.
The iconic finger photo of Johnny Cash was shot at a 1969 concert at California’s San Quentin prison. Legend has it that the photographer, Jim Marshall, had asked Cash for a shot "for the warden."


“Sometimes I am two people. Johnny is the nice one. Cash causes all the trouble. They fight.”

 

I have had this picture in a small frame, in various places in my home office, for probably 15 years.  I'd cut it out of a Rolling Stone magazine. Always thought it was cool, always wanted to draw a great big version and finally did. I've been advised not to hang it up at work, aimed at certain desks.

Some people just won't appreciate the art of it.

“I love songs about horses, railroads, land, Judgment Day, family, hard times, whiskey, courtship, marriage, adultery, separation, murder, war, prison, rambling, damnation, home, salvation, death, pride, humor, piety, rebellion, patriotism, larceny, determination, tragedy, rowdiness, heartbreak and love. And Mother. And God.”

I was 8 years old in 1969 (thereabouts) and I first heard the San Quentin record in my Aunt Maxine and Uncle Stu's family room in New Bethlehem, Pa. I didn't really know what I was hearing. I just knew that I liked records, loved record players -- and that the relatives had a pile of 'em that were new to me. So, Johnny. And 'A Boy Named Sue."  Cash cut the Shel Silverstein-penned song live at the prison.


"After about three lessons the voice teacher said, "Don't take voice lessons. Do it your way."”

Some decades later I discovered another Cash classic, "Ring of Fire." It was Frank Zappa's version, at first. And Frank was talking about a whole 'nuther type of ring. ("It burns ..." )   I do have the original Cash Ring of Fire album on Columbia Records, however, in glorious monophonic sound. Love that record.

Growing up, the only Johnny Cash record we ever had at home was my mother's copy of Orange Blossom Special, which I liked mostly because it had a boxcar on the cover. My dad, brother and I had a thing for trains. Still have the album. Long ago sold my electric trains (and miss 'em.)

“My father was a man of love. He always loved me to death. He worked hard in the fields, but my father never hit me. Never. I don't ever remember a really cross, unkind word from my father."

Cash was popular, and prolific. The pile of vinyl below only begins to hint at his output. He also was troubled, and his career waxed and waned until a final resurgence in 1998 and his American Recordings albums. Producer Rick Rubin paid $20,000 to place a full page ad in Billboard: The finger to Nashville.

“You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.”
 
I did acquire a lot of Johnny Cash music at two times in the last decade, both from friends passing forward their own, or a loved one's, collection. Mostly these records looked very much played, but some are pristine.

 “When I think about country music, I think about America.”

A former neighbor, who was ailing and is now deceased, also had me tape record his entire collection for him (plus Hank Williams Sr.) so that he could play the cassettes at his bedside. I made open reel tape copies for myself, too. Talk about a treasury. 

There are just a handful of Cash CDs in my library, a two-disc Best Of deal and three of the American Recordings. But I play those tapes and the vinyl most. They release the most memories.

"I have no illusions about who I am and how old I am—but that has nothing to do with it when I'm in that studio or on that stage and that thing is coming out of me. That fire is just as bright and hot as when I was 23. I and the song are one—and whatever I was meant to do with my music, I'm doing it."

AMERICAN FINGER
February 2011, pencil, 2' x 3'
$150

For inquiries: hankbonesman@embarqmail.com