Blasting with Phil and Dave Alvin

A little music today.

Though I love Dwight Yoakam’s cover with Pete Anderson raging out a 3-minute solo to finish the song, there’s nothing like The Blasters.

This is my kind of music: growling gravelly vocals, bass and drums stomp stomp stomp, and a guitar that slams you against the wall and keeps kicking till you’re down.

That’s what you get when you blend growing up with Jimmie Rodgers and Hank Williams with discovering Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple in your teens.

That Mountain

This one, specifically:

Phoenix’s east valley is dominated by the Superstition Mountains, a range that, unlike the Rockies, is a great square block of jagged peaks for miles. The one in the photo is the edge, looming over Apache Junction. It has, as far as I can find, no name, which boggles, don’t it?

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