Category: Music

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Wednesday/ tennis in Marrakech 🎾

The clay court season (April to June) in men’s tennis has started with ATP 250 tournaments (smaller tournaments) this week in Houston, Texas, in Bucharest, Romania, and in Marrakech, Morocco.

Here is Nuno Borges (28, 🇵🇹) being interviewed after beating the Belgian Raphaël Collignon (23, 🇧🇪) in a closely fought match on the red clay in Marrakech. It ended in a third set tie-break in which Borges iced out Collignon 7-0, though.

Afterwards the announcer addressed the remaining spectators in French.
A bit of history [from Wikipedia]: The French conquest of Morocco began with the French Republic occupying the city of Oujda on 29 March 1907. The French launched campaigns against the Sultanate of Morocco which culminated in the signing of the Treaty of Fes and establishment of the French Protectorate in Morocco on 30 March 1912.

There is a 1977 song by Mike Batt, The Ride to Agadir, from the album Schizophonia, about the Rif War— an armed conflict fought from 1921 to 1926 between Spain (joined by France in 1924) and the Berber (Amazigh) tribes of the mountainous Rif region of northern Morocco.
I must have played The Ride to Agadir a hundred times or more, while driving in my car in the late 80s and early 90s.

Lyrics: The Ride to Agadir

We rode in the morning
Casablanca to the west
On the Atlas mountain foothills leading down to Marrakesh
For Mohammed and Morocco
We had taken up our guns
For the ashes of our fathers and the children of our sons
For the ashes of our fathers and the children of our sons

In the dry winds of summer
We were sharpening the blades
We were riding to act upon the promise we had made
With the fist and the dagger
With the rifle and the lance
We will suffer no intrusion from the infidels of France
We will suffer no intrusion from the infidels of France

We could wait no more
In the burning sands on the ride to Agadir
Like the dogs of war
For the future of this land on the ride to Agadir

Though they were waiting
And they were fifty to our ten
They were easily outnumbered by a smaller force of men
As the darkness was falling
They were soon to realize
We were going to relieve them of their godforsaken lives
We were going to relieve them of their godforsaken lives

We could wait no more
In the burning sands on the ride to Agadir
Like the dogs of war
For the future of this land on the ride to Agadir

We rode in the morning
Casablanca to the west
On the Atlas mountain foothills leading down to Marrakesh
For Mohammed and Morocco
We had taken up our guns
For the ashes of our fathers and the children of our sons
For the ashes of our fathers and the children of our sons

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Sunday/ my cleanest dirty shirt 👕

R.I.P. Kris Kristofferson (1936-2024).

 

Well, I woke up Sunday mornin’
With no way to hold my head it didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I’d smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs that I’d been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussin’ at a can that he was kicking
Then I crossed the empty street
Caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to something that I’d lost
Somehow, somewhere along the way

Refrain
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishin’, Lord, that I were stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs that they were singing
Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

Refrain
On the Sunday mornin’ sidewalk
Wishin’, Lord, that I were stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down

– Lyrics from “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” (1970)

“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” was written by Kris Kristofferson, and first recorded in 1969 by Ray Stevens before becoming a No. 1 hit on the Billboard US Country chart for Johnny Cash.
Kristofferson himself recorded and released the song on his album ”Kristofferson” in 1970.

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Wednesday/ at the Twilight Exit

dive bar
noun
a small, unglamorous, eclectic, old-style bar with inexpensive drinks, which may feature dim lighting, shabby or dated decor, neon beer signs, packaged beer sales, cash-only service, and a local clientele (from Wikipedia)

The amigos went to Twilight Exit tonight, off Cherry Street in Central District. It was toasty outside today (88 °F / 32 °C) but there was a welcome breeze outside on the patio.

That’s Jimi Hendrix (b.1942- d.1970) on the artwork by the entrance— Seattle native and guitarist, singer, and songwriter. His mainstream career spanned only four years, but he is widely regarded as one of the most influential electric guitarists in the history of popular music.

 

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Monday/ Olivia Newton-John (1948-2022)

I got good Kentucky whiskey on the counter
And my friends around to help me ease the pain
‘Til some button-pushing cowboy plays that love song
And here I am just missing you again
Lyrics from the song Please Mr Please, from the album Have You Never Been Mellow (1975)

Olivia Newton-John’s Greatest Hits (1977) was the very first vinyl record that I had bought.
I no longer have the vinyl record, but I do have the songs in my digital collection of .mp4 songs.

ONJ’s Greatest Hits— the vinyl record pressed for the South African market.
The selection of songs was a little different from the Greatest Hits sold elsewhere in the world. It had ONJ’s rendition of John Denver’s ‘Take Me Home Country Roads’,  as well as her recording of the 19th century American murder ballad ‘Banks of the Ohio’.