This well-known piece was written in 1928 by French composer Maurice Ravel. M.P. - who had some vocal training in his youth and loves operatic tunes - sent it to me the other day, and though I had heard the melody many times, I guess I'd never heard the entire work played all the way through. I was astonished to realize it is just the same intro repeated over and over again, never leading to anything else. WTF??
Frankly, I thought it was absurd. Come to find out - Ravel himself agrees with me! He planned it that way. Oh well, you know how those highbrow composers are . . . .
Here it is, from the BBC Proms in 2014, under the baton of Daniel Barenboim:
FYI:Boléro would seem to have been an inspiration for the popular tune "Andalucía," aka "The Breeze and I," written by Cuban composer Ernesto Lecuona, which was a big hit for Jimmy Dorsey and his orchestra in 1940, featuring a vocal by Bob Eberly:
We never heard of this studly Welshman until YouTube sent some of his videos my way the other day, and wow! What a great voice, in a great package. I guess it shows just how out of the loop we are here, as he has had an extensive career on stage and screen as a big, butch action-hero type. I wonder how many of my truckbuddies have heard of him before now - and why you didn't tell me!
Here are three songs that showcase his powerful vocal range. I hope you all will scroll down further to listen to his deeply moving coming-out story, which many of us can relate to. BTW, your superannuated Head Trucker can remember when all of these songs were Top 40 hits, as noted.
And here is Luke in 2024, discussing his upbringing in a homophobic church in a Welsh village, and reading a poignant selection from his memoirs. You know, I think all gay boys tell the same story of growing up a lonely, miserable outcast, not knowing what to do or whom to ask for help. Somehow, those who survive manage to achieve a reasonably good adult life. Some do better than good - Luke is one of those who has hit the jackpot in life. God bless him.
This gold single by the Righteous Brothers was #1 this week in 1966 on the Billboard charts. It holds up very well, I think. They had a unique sound, a masculine sound that must have appealed to every gay boy and man in America. It certainly appealed to me, just beginning the mysterious ascent to manhood. Enjoy.
Here's wishing all my truckbuddies a happy Thanksgiving Day. M.P. hasn't felt well lately, so we are postponing our turkey dinner to Sunday. This song by Mary Chapin Carpenter is a favorite of his.
"Billboard Top 5 songs from 1965 | Gen Z Music Producer Reaction" -- the title says it all. But I give Isaac Brown credit for being intelligent, articulate, and not at all snotty as some others of his generation would be. He's respectful, not sarcastic; a nice guy. You can see as he listens to each song, and occasionally comments, that he approches them across the gulf of sixty summers with a very analytical mind, like an archaeologist.
But wait to watch his head explode when he gets to "Wooly Bully"!
1965 was a very good year for pop music - this is my kind of music, from that sweet slice of time after Meet the Beatles but before Sgt. Pepper. No, I wasn't part of the counter-culture. Too square; still am.
For more fun with Isaac, go watch him listen to Rumours for the very first time! (How the hell do you get to be a music producer without ever having heard Fleetwood Mac? Sheesh! Kids these days . . . )
The Beach Boys' 1969 hit brings back memories of someone I can't quite recall. Was it a girl I was dating in high school? That didn't work out, but I thought I was in love, and I do recall the warm, cozy feeling of this song. Or was it later on, and I re-listened to this song, thinking of a boy I thought I loved? Funny, I usually do remember personal things like that. I guess the mind is aging like the body. Oh well, it's still a good summer song, so enjoy.
Boys, do you ever miss your mamas? Mine has been gone from this life more than thirty years, but I miss her still. And I know her bright, shining love will meet me when I get to the end of my road.
What a great gay anthem. Ought to be the gay anthem, I say. I'd make a few tweaks to the lyrics, but overall - I love it. Thanks to my truckbuddy Frank for posting it first.
Alpert's fiftieth album, entitled 50, was released last fall. From 1962 to 1969, he had 12 gold albums in a row, 5 of them reaching #1 on the Billboard chart.
Would you believe that at age 90, Herb Alpert is still touring around and blowing a horn? Wow. My truckbuddies of a certain age will recall that the TJB sound was the bright, breezy background to the 1960ts, the sound of youth having fun in the sun - at least, until everything turned ugly and went to pot. This CBS report catches us up on the man with the golden horn:
BTW, I wrote about that album cover here a couple of months ago.
M.P. and I are 2 down and 2 to go: we had all the kids and kiddos over for Yule Dinner on Sunday the 22nd, and then after we recuperated from that feast, had our own Christmas Dinner on Sunday the 29th - which about did us in. Now we are hoping to have a New Year's dinner tomorrow, and next week a Kings Day dinner if we are able. No pics yet because M.P.'s so-called smart phone is on strike; maybe next week I'll have some photos to blog.
--- ooo 000 ooo ---
The quiet days at the end of the year have always been a time of retreat and reflection for me. This year, it seems the end of an era, not just another year -- for reasons obvious to all my truckbuddies, I'm sure. This is the calm before the storm.
The world has been in a parlous state all my adult life, what with wars and rumors of wars, crisis upon crisis, rebellion here, revolt there, and no end of foolishness among the peoples and leaders of the world. And yet, at some points there has been greater hope for the future than seems apparent just now.
Here at the beginning of my eighth decade, it is poignant to look back at myself at the dawn of manhood, and remember what it felt like, what I thought, what I hoped. How strange to say that I can even show you what I looked like fifty years ago: is that callow fellow really Me?
All grown up and still unkissed: Russ in Jackson Square, New Orleans, 1974
It would have broken my heart to know then the cruel twists and turns that lay ahead in the road of life. But they say that suffering develops faith and character. If nothing else, it certainly turns your hair gray.
Well, leaving out all the boring details, of no interest to anyone but me - and even I'm tired of hearing the story - I have somehow lived through many years of light and shadow, joys and sorrows, to be a very old man. Human life is always a mixed bag - win, lose, or draw, you have to play the hand you are dealt, and do the best you can. Have fun, but don't be a prick. Do your part, don't leave a mess, and mind your own damn business.
That's it. That's the wisdom of the world, in a nutshell. Take it or leave it. There are other, spiritual truths worth knowing as well, but you have to find those on your own.
When I was a kid, I used to think it would be a fine thing one day to be old and wise. Well, in a way it is somewhat satisfying to finally have seen through the world and all its illusions - to see things and people as they really are, not just what you imagine them to be.
But at this late age, it doesn't do you much good. Your body and your finances (unless you are exceptionally lucky) don't allow you to do much with all that wisdom. And nobody wants to hear what an old man has to say. So you just keep it to yourself, mainly.
There are many things I've wanted to say these last few years about recent developments in the world and in this country in particular. But what good would it do? When the herd decides to stampede, you can risk your neck trying to stop them, or you can stay out of the way and just let them run on till they get tired of running. Thank God it's not my job to fix the world. Even He has his hands full with that chore, I suppose.
When you have lived into old age, you can feel the rhythm of time passing: a river always flowing, a cycle of stars always revolving above our heads and the earth rotating under our feet. Empires rise and fall; war alternates with peace; wisdom and folly, love and hate, poverty and plenty, life and death - the wheel keeps on turning, endlessly, regardless of our petty wants here on this little rock in the vast depth of the cosmos.
A rather frightening picture, if we are not in sync with the Love that moves the sun and other stars, as Dante put it. And that Love is closer than breathing, nearer than hands and feet - if you are willing to believe.
We can't be sure what 2025 holds in store for us; but no matter what comes or goes, we can each be true to the goodness within us, and do small things with great love. So here's wishing all my truckbuddies health, wealth, and happiness in the New Year and in all the years to come. God bless.
A couple of Sundays ago, I offered my vision for our country. Today I offer my vision for the world:
From a distance, we all have enough
And no one is in need
And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease
No hungry mouths to feed . . .
There are many mutterings abroad now of "resistance" in some form or fashion; though it does not yet appear exactly what is to be resisted, or where or how.
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Your Head Trucker is as dismayed and troubled as anyone else just now; but I am content to trust in the One who said,
My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in weakness.
The prayer for peace in the sidebar to the right is a good way to start, I think; at any rate, it's all I have to offer.
Lovely Lesley Gore, who resembles a favorite cousin of mine, sings her first hit song on the Ed Sullivan Show, October 13, 1963 -- sixty-one years ago today.
Hauser is a great favorite of M.P.'s, and I like him too. He played this outstanding concert of classical and popular music last May in London with guest artists Caroline Campbell, Aida Garifullina, and Lara Fabian. As M.P. says, he's a superb cellist and a real showman to boot. Quite a treat for music lovers.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, harmony; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
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We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.
and welcome to the Blue Truck, a blog for mature gay men with news and views on gay rights, history, art, humor, and whatever comes to mind. Plus a few hot men. The truck's all washed and gassed up, so hop in buddy, let's go.
CAUTION: For mature gay men only beyond this point. Some posts and links may not be suitable for children or the unco guid. You have been warned.
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My Story
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Churches say that the expression of love in a heterosexual monogamous relationship includes the physical, the touching, embracing, kissing, the genital act - the totality of our love makes each of us grow to become increasingly godlike and compassionate. If this is so for the heterosexual, what earthly reason have we to say that it is not the case with the homosexual?
It is a perversion if you say to me that a person chooses to be homosexual. You must be crazy to choose a way of life that exposes you to a kind of hatred. It's like saying you choose to be black in a race-infected society.
If God, as they say, is homophobic, I wouldn't worship that God.
Note, 9/15/26: For the past week, Blogger has not updated most of the posts in this sidebar. I don't know what to do about it. You can still access the websites below by clicking on the titles of each one.
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