To a friend about a friend I never knew:

"I know I may have told you about the late, great David Blue, and
suddenly I've found one of his songs on YouTube... a momentous moment,
indeed! Took me relatively forever to find this video... for some
reason I didn't think about the possib...ilty of David Blue being on
YouTube. I've spent too many years with the fact of Blue being an
almost complete unknown. A rare live recording at the Unicorn Cafe.
David Blue 1941-1982..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiHM0hotkPo

Leonard Cohen wrote this elegy for him:
He died running, he fell beside the square, to the street where, many
years before he had begun to sing, he fell in the fullest expression
of vanity and discipline. Many of us, in our songs, had touched on the
type of man that he became. Dylan raised up such a ragged hero many
times before he turned to solace in the shadow of American
Chistianity. Joni Mitchell had spoken simply of that constant
ambiguous lover, spoken of him over and over, before she entered the
beautiful technology of jazz and virtuosity. Kris Kristofferson had
described that gambler playing his way from Nashville to Hollywood,
where finally the dangers of the game were too coarse for poetry.

David Blue was the peer of any singer in this country, and he knew it,
and he coveted their audiences and their power, he claimed them as his
rightful due. And when he could not have them, his disappointment
became so dazzling, his greed assumed such purity, his appetite such
honesty, and he stretched his arrm so wide, that we were all able to
recognize ourselves, and we fell in love with him. And as we grew
older, as something in the public realm corrupted itself into
irrelevance, the integrity of his ambition, the integritv of his
failure, became, for those who knew him,increasingly important and
appealing, and he moved swiftly, with effortless intimacy into the
private life of anyone who recognized him, and our private lives
became for him the theaters that no one would book for him, and he
sang for us in hotel rooms and kitchens, and he became that poet and
that gambler, and he established a defiant style to revive those
soiled archeypes. In the last few years, something happened to his
voice and his guitar, something very deep and sweet entered, his
timing became immaculate and vwe knew that we were listening to one of
the finest, one of the few men singing in America and I was happy then
and perhaps happier now to say that I told him that.

He did not put away his cowboy boots. He did not take a part-time job,
he was fully employed in his defiance and his originality and his
faithfulness to a ground, a style, an image of which he himself was
the last and best champion exponent, a style that many of us had
wanted, courted, and had not won.And finally, toward the end of his
short and graceful life, he had the grace to recognize the woman to
whom he had always been singing, and he courted and married Nesya and
because a woman of talent and beauty does not choose lightly, she made
manifest for all to plainly see the qualities of love and generosity
that he had forced out of his distress. The death of such a man
unifies us, and recalls to us how precious we are to one another

-Leonard Cohen

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

On Oct 18, 9:18 pm, Will Dockery wrote:

To a friend about a friend I never knew:

"I know I may have told you about the late, great David Blue, and
suddenly I've found one of his songs on YouTube... a momentous moment,
indeed! Took me relatively forever to find this video... for some
reason I didn't think about the possib...ilty of David Blue being on
YouTube. I've spent too many years with the fact of Blue being an
almost complete unknown. A rare live recording at the Unicorn Cafe.
David Blue 1941-1982..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiHM0hotkPo

Leonard Cohen wrote this elegy for him:
He died running, he fell beside the square, to the street where, many
years before he had begun to sing, he fell in the fullest expression
of vanity and discipline. Many of us, in our songs, had touched on the
type of man that he became. Dylan raised up such a ragged hero many
times before he turned to solace in the shadow of American
Chistianity. Joni Mitchell had spoken simply of that constant
ambiguous lover, spoken of him over and over, before she entered the
beautiful technology of jazz and virtuosity. Kris Kristofferson had
described that gambler playing his way from Nashville to Hollywood,
where finally the dangers of the game were too coarse for poetry.

David Blue was the peer of any singer in this country, and he knew it,
and he coveted their audiences and their power, he claimed them as his
rightful due. And when he could not have them, his disappointment
became so dazzling, his greed assumed such purity, his appetite such
honesty, and he stretched his arrm so wide, that we were all able to
recognize ourselves, and we fell in love with him. And as we grew
older, as something in the public realm corrupted itself into
irrelevance, the integrity of his ambition, the integritv of his
failure, became, for those who knew him,increasingly important and
appealing, and he moved swiftly, with effortless intimacy into the
private life of anyone who recognized him, and our private lives
became for him the theaters that no one would book for him, and he
sang for us in hotel rooms and kitchens, and he became that poet and
that gambler, and he established a defiant style to revive those
soiled archeypes. In the last few years, something happened to his
voice and his guitar, something very deep and sweet entered, his
timing became immaculate and vwe knew that we were listening to one of
the finest, one of the few men singing in America and I was happy then
and perhaps happier now to say that I told him that.

He did not put away his cowboy boots. He did not take a part-time job,
he was fully employed in his defiance and his originality and his
faithfulness to a ground, a style, an image of which he himself was
the last and best champion exponent, a style that many of us had
wanted, courted, and had not won.And finally, toward the end of his
short and graceful life, he had the grace to recognize the woman to
whom he had always been singing, and he courted and married Nesya and
because a woman of talent and beauty does not choose lightly, she made
manifest for all to plainly see the qualities of love and generosity
that he had forced out of his distress. The death of such a man
unifies us, and recalls to us how precious we are to one another

-Leonard Cohen

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

Beautiful!

The song too.

Thanks for passing it through, Will.

On Oct 19, 11:40 pm, Tif <pasterna... at (no spam) gmail.com> wrote:





On Oct 18, 9:18 pm, Will Dockery wrote:

To a friend about a friend I never knew:

"I know I may have told you about the late, great David Blue, and
suddenly I've found one of his songs on YouTube... a momentous moment,
indeed! Took me relatively forever to find this video... for some
reason I didn't think about the possib...ilty of David Blue being on
YouTube. I've spent too many years with the fact of Blue being an
almost complete unknown. A rare live recording at the Unicorn Cafe.
David Blue 1941-1982..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiHM0hotkPo

Leonard Cohen wrote this elegy for him:
He died running, he fell beside the square, to the street where, many
years before he had begun to sing, he fell in the fullest expression
of vanity and discipline. Many of us, in our songs, had touched on the
type of man that he became. Dylan raised up such a ragged hero many
times before he turned to solace in the shadow of American
Chistianity. Joni Mitchell had spoken simply of that constant
ambiguous lover, spoken of him over and over, before she entered the
beautiful technology of jazz and virtuosity. Kris Kristofferson had
described that gambler playing his way from Nashville to Hollywood,
where finally the dangers of the game were too coarse for poetry.

David Blue was the peer of any singer in this country, and he knew it,
and he coveted their audiences and their power, he claimed them as his
rightful due. And when he could not have them, his disappointment
became so dazzling, his greed assumed such purity, his appetite such
honesty, and he stretched his arrm so wide, that we were all able to
recognize ourselves, and we fell in love with him. And as we grew
older, as something in the public realm corrupted itself into
irrelevance, the integrity of his ambition, the integritv of his
failure, became, for those who knew him,increasingly important and
appealing, and he moved swiftly, with effortless intimacy into the
private life of anyone who recognized him, and our private lives
became for him the theaters that no one would book for him, and he
sang for us in hotel rooms and kitchens, and he became that poet and
that gambler, and he established a defiant style to revive those
soiled archeypes. In the last few years, something happened to his
voice and his guitar, something very deep and sweet entered, his
timing became immaculate and vwe knew that we were listening to one of
the finest, one of the few men singing in America and I was happy then
and perhaps happier now to say that I told him that.

He did not put away his cowboy boots. He did not take a part-time job,
he was fully employed in his defiance and his originality and his
faithfulness to a ground, a style, an image of which he himself was
the last and best champion exponent, a style that many of us had
wanted, courted, and had not won.And finally, toward the end of his
short and graceful life, he had the grace to recognize the woman to
whom he had always been singing, and he courted and married Nesya and
because a woman of talent and beauty does not choose lightly, she made
manifest for all to plainly see the qualities of love and generosity
that he had forced out of his distress. The death of such a man
unifies us, and recalls to us how precious we are to one another

-Leonard Cohen

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

Beautiful!

The song too.

Thanks for passing it through, Will.

Yes, thanks, Tif. It was pretty much completely "off topic" for the
Beatles newsgroup, but I couldn't resist this one... David Blue
deserves a showing.

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

On Oct 20, 10:19 am, Will Dockery wrote:
On Oct 19, 11:40 pm, Tif <pasterna... at (no spam) gmail.com> wrote:
On Oct 18, 9:18 pm, Will Dockery wrote:

To a friend about a friend I never knew:

"I know I may have told you about the late, great David Blue, and
suddenly I've found one of his songs on YouTube... a momentous moment,
indeed! Took me relatively forever to find this video... for some
reason I didn't think about the possib...ilty of David Blue being on
YouTube. I've spent too many years with the fact of Blue being an
almost complete unknown. A rare live recording at the Unicorn Cafe.
David Blue 1941-1982..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiHM0hotkPo

Leonard Cohen wrote this elegy for him:
He died running, he fell beside the square, to the street where, many
years before he had begun to sing, he fell in the fullest expression
of vanity and discipline. Many of us, in our songs, had touched on the
type of man that he became. Dylan raised up such a ragged hero many
times before he turned to solace in the shadow of American
Chistianity. Joni Mitchell had spoken simply of that constant
ambiguous lover, spoken of him over and over, before she entered the
beautiful technology of jazz and virtuosity. Kris Kristofferson had
described that gambler playing his way from Nashville to Hollywood,
where finally the dangers of the game were too coarse for poetry.

David Blue was the peer of any singer in this country, and he knew it,
and he coveted their audiences and their power, he claimed them as his
rightful due. And when he could not have them, his disappointment
became so dazzling, his greed assumed such purity, his appetite such
honesty, and he stretched his arrm so wide, that we were all able to
recognize ourselves, and we fell in love with him. And as we grew
older, as something in the public realm corrupted itself into
irrelevance, the integrity of his ambition, the integritv of his
failure, became, for those who knew him,increasingly important and
appealing, and he moved swiftly, with effortless intimacy into the
private life of anyone who recognized him, and our private lives
became for him the theaters that no one would book for him, and he
sang for us in hotel rooms and kitchens, and he became that poet and
that gambler, and he established a defiant style to revive those
soiled archeypes. In the last few years, something happened to his
voice and his guitar, something very deep and sweet entered, his
timing became immaculate and vwe knew that we were listening to one of
the finest, one of the few men singing in America and I was happy then
and perhaps happier now to say that I told him that.

He did not put away his cowboy boots. He did not take a part-time job,
he was fully employed in his defiance and his originality and his
faithfulness to a ground, a style, an image of which he himself was
the last and best champion exponent, a style that many of us had
wanted, courted, and had not won.And finally, toward the end of his
short and graceful life, he had the grace to recognize the woman to
whom he had always been singing, and he courted and married Nesya and
because a woman of talent and beauty does not choose lightly, she made
manifest for all to plainly see the qualities of love and generosity
that he had forced out of his distress. The death of such a man
unifies us, and recalls to us how precious we are to one another

-Leonard Cohen

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

Beautiful!

The song too.

Thanks for passing it through, Will.

Yes, thanks, Tif. It was pretty much completely "off topic" for the
Beatles newsgroup, but I couldn't resist this one... David Blue deserves a showing.

True, he is deserving.  Too bad he ain't around anymore.

On Oct 20, 10:19 am, Will Dockery <will.dock... at (no spam) gmail.com> wrote:

On Oct 19, 11:40 pm, Tif <pasterna... at (no spam) gmail.com> wrote:

On Oct 18, 9:18 pm, Will Dockery wrote:

To a friend about a friend I never knew:

"I know I may have told you about the late, great David Blue, and
suddenly I've found one of his songs on YouTube... a momentous moment,
indeed! Took me relatively forever to find this video... for some
reason I didn't think about the possib...ilty of David Blue being on
YouTube. I've spent too many years with the fact of Blue being an
almost complete unknown. A rare live recording at the Unicorn Cafe.
David Blue 1941-1982..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiHM0hotkPo

Leonard Cohen wrote this elegy for him:
He died running, he fell beside the square, to the street where, many
years before he had begun to sing, he fell in the fullest expression
of vanity and discipline. Many of us, in our songs, had touched on the
type of man that he became. Dylan raised up such a ragged hero many
times before he turned to solace in the shadow of American
Chistianity. Joni Mitchell had spoken simply of that constant
ambiguous lover, spoken of him over and over, before she entered the
beautiful technology of jazz and virtuosity. Kris Kristofferson had
described that gambler playing his way from Nashville to Hollywood,
where finally the dangers of the game were too coarse for poetry.

David Blue was the peer of any singer in this country, and he knew it,
and he coveted their audiences and their power, he claimed them as his
rightful due. And when he could not have them, his disappointment
became so dazzling, his greed assumed such purity, his appetite such
honesty, and he stretched his arrm so wide, that we were all able to
recognize ourselves, and we fell in love with him. And as we grew
older, as something in the public realm corrupted itself into
irrelevance, the integrity of his ambition, the integritv of his
failure, became, for those who knew him,increasingly important and
appealing, and he moved swiftly, with effortless intimacy into the
private life of anyone who recognized him, and our private lives
became for him the theaters that no one would book for him, and he
sang for us in hotel rooms and kitchens, and he became that poet and
that gambler, and he established a defiant style to revive those
soiled archeypes. In the last few years, something happened to his
voice and his guitar, something very deep and sweet entered, his
timing became immaculate and vwe knew that we were listening to one of
the finest, one of the few men singing in America and I was happy then
and perhaps happier now to say that I told him that.

He did not put away his cowboy boots. He did not take a part-time job,
he was fully employed in his defiance and his originality and his
faithfulness to a ground, a style, an image of which he himself was
the last and best champion exponent, a style that many of us had
wanted, courted, and had not won.And finally, toward the end of his
short and graceful life, he had the grace to recognize the woman to
whom he had always been singing, and he courted and married Nesya and
because a woman of talent and beauty does not choose lightly, she made
manifest for all to plainly see the qualities of love and generosity
that he had forced out of his distress. The death of such a man
unifies us, and recalls to us how precious we are to one another

-Leonard Cohen

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

Beautiful!

The song too.

Thanks for passing it through, Will.

Yes, thanks, Tif. It was pretty much completely "off topic" for the
Beatles newsgroup, but I couldn't resist this one... David Blue
deserves a showing.

--
"Red Lipped Stranger & other stories" by Will Dockery:http://www.myspace.com/willdockery

True, he is deserving.  Too bad he ain't around anymore.