Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Loudon Wainwright III
As a pop culture observer, I hate to hang a performer’s career image on a single recording about roadkill and for the sheer gusto with which he sang it, but so be it. In 1974, when Loudon Wainwright III put out “Dead Skunk,” a lot of people thought it was about then-president Richard M. Nixon. It wasn’t. Wainwright said the song was about roadkill and that it came to him in less than 15 minutes. “Dead Skunk” placed him in the mix as a wry and satirical reporter of life.
When Wainwright emerged with acoustic guitar on the folk stages of the 1960s, the rock press called him the next Dylan. “They were lookin’ for you, signin’ up others,” he sang in protest in his “Talking New Bob Dylan.” “We were new Bob Dylans/ Your dumb-ass kid brothers.” In the song, one gains a sense of Wainwright’s deeper inner-Dylan frustration: “Well, we still get together every week at Bruce’s [Springsteen’s] house/ Why, he’s got quite a spread, I tell ya — it’s a 12-step program.”
Wainwright was married to folk artist Kate McGarrigle for a time, and together they produced a small and popular singer-songwriter dynasty in their offspring Rufus and Martha Wainwright. Predictably, a more private side of Wainwright senior emerged from the lyrics of his children’s songs. “I’m gonna break you down,” sang the enigmatic Rufus, “and see what you’re really worth to me.” But Martha went for the grand slam when she wrote “Bloody Mother F***ing A**hole,” a song she publicly admitted was Loudon-inspired.
Wainwright’s reply? Sober diplomacy: “Pain is a good subject matter,” he told a reporter. “There’s pain and conflict in family life, and that’s what drama is. You can be John Denver and talk about how beautiful the mountains are, and that works if you’re John Denver.”
LOUDON WAINWRIGHT III, AcousticMusicSanDiego, Friday, February 6, 7:30 p.m. 619-303-8176. $25.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
As a pop culture observer, I hate to hang a performer’s career image on a single recording about roadkill and for the sheer gusto with which he sang it, but so be it. In 1974, when Loudon Wainwright III put out “Dead Skunk,” a lot of people thought it was about then-president Richard M. Nixon. It wasn’t. Wainwright said the song was about roadkill and that it came to him in less than 15 minutes. “Dead Skunk” placed him in the mix as a wry and satirical reporter of life.
When Wainwright emerged with acoustic guitar on the folk stages of the 1960s, the rock press called him the next Dylan. “They were lookin’ for you, signin’ up others,” he sang in protest in his “Talking New Bob Dylan.” “We were new Bob Dylans/ Your dumb-ass kid brothers.” In the song, one gains a sense of Wainwright’s deeper inner-Dylan frustration: “Well, we still get together every week at Bruce’s [Springsteen’s] house/ Why, he’s got quite a spread, I tell ya — it’s a 12-step program.”
Wainwright was married to folk artist Kate McGarrigle for a time, and together they produced a small and popular singer-songwriter dynasty in their offspring Rufus and Martha Wainwright. Predictably, a more private side of Wainwright senior emerged from the lyrics of his children’s songs. “I’m gonna break you down,” sang the enigmatic Rufus, “and see what you’re really worth to me.” But Martha went for the grand slam when she wrote “Bloody Mother F***ing A**hole,” a song she publicly admitted was Loudon-inspired.
Wainwright’s reply? Sober diplomacy: “Pain is a good subject matter,” he told a reporter. “There’s pain and conflict in family life, and that’s what drama is. You can be John Denver and talk about how beautiful the mountains are, and that works if you’re John Denver.”
LOUDON WAINWRIGHT III, AcousticMusicSanDiego, Friday, February 6, 7:30 p.m. 619-303-8176. $25.
Comments