Goodbye Mr. Beefheart

Captain Beefheart, RIP

If anyone, anywhere, in any context — be it religion, commerce, art, business, politics, romance, what have you — believes in the importance of sticking to your guns, of finding your own unique voice, of enacting that which you believe in, of embodying your values in your practice, of walking it like you talk it, of staying somehow true, then when you listen to the music of Captain Beefheart, you should very likely hear the sound of your own spirit there.

The clouds are full of wine
Not whiskey or rye
‘n the sky is full of bluebrains,
Bluejays, mermaids
Bluebrains, bluejays, bluebirds, mermaids
bluejays, bluebirds, rainbows
‘n the night is full of rhinestones,
Pinecones, telephones
‘n the sky is full of rhinestones, pinecones, telephones
Wolfhowls, milkcows
Shadows to some hows
‘n the clouds are full of wine
Not whiskey or rye
‘n the sky is full of bluebrains,
Baboons, rhinos, fools ‘n buffoons
‘n my eyes are full of bloodbones,
Snowcones, serenaders ‘n sen-n-n-oritas
‘n so on…
Melodies that go on, go on,
Go on, go on, go on, go on,
Go off, go off, go off, go off

Why note this here, on this blog? Because when I taste Geyserville, Monte Bello, Lytton Springs, I taste that music. Because when I stand on our knoll, thousands of feet towards the sky, I see that spirit. Because when I walk into the Old Winery Barn on a torrentially rainy Saturday morning in winter, and I hear the drops on the ceiling, and smell the moisture in the wood, I am inside that spirit. Because when I walk through the vineyards, stopping to run my hand over the elegantly gnarled old head-trained/dry-farmed vines, I touch that spirit.

"Crepe and Black Lamps" Don Van Vliet

Because Captain Beefheart is the sound of independence, authenticity, values, and truth. Because when the music didn’t make sense anymore, he want to the desert and painted, and never again traded on a past legacy. Because even though he was nearly a rock star, and certainly a cult figure of extraordinary importance, he stayed happily married to the same woman for over forty years. Because he was, to the end, an artist.

Because the clouds are full of wine.



Categories: Geyserville, History, Monte Bello

Tags: , , ,

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