John’s latest endeavors
I hate opinions, but . . .
I hate opinions, but in my opinion, that lonely Rt. 142 N drive from one mountain top to the next, in the dead of minus ten below February, praying the "wheel" wouldn't breakdown cause I was the only one out there in no-cell-service-land, stupidly taking my life in my hands just to see "The Ghost of Paul Revere" band, was well.... well worth it. I hate labels, but in that particular "live" moment at the Loaf, they captured their own labels of Celtic raucous stomp and roll, Americana heart and soul sound to an apocalyptic aplomb. The back drop to which was endless buckets of leaking roof water. The only thing missing was the avalanche..... and you.
In a many ways, the next band . . .
In a many ways, the next band I was lucky enough to be asked to photograph, the Mallett Band, is cut from the same musical cloth as the Revere's. For they too have a sound that has a lovable rootsy Americana twang to it that the kids today would probably label punk-folk. The top shelf band is led by the legendary, Maine’s own, Dave Mallett. Who despite his age comes across as willfully charismatic, ageless, and full of piss and rebellion. Which in these dark days of growing world wide fascism, was a cleansing experience. Dave and his band made me feel radical again. Thank you. And a special thanks to whomever did the scheduling, for the drive from Madrid to The Old South Church in Farmington in May, was like its brethren, a lot gentler and kinder than our endless old man winter of 19.
Just when I thought . . .
Just when I thought I had seen and photographed every kind of human expression on the big small planet, my beautiful and talented niece, Sophia Fahnley, invited me to a "Deaf Rap Show" at the Mt Blue High School in Farmington, Maine. In which she was performing as well. The show turned out to be one of the most profound I have ever witnessed. I am going to go out on a limb and say, from what I saw, people who cannot hear, hear better then any of us who do. Its not what they’re expressing, though it’s that too, it’s how they express the lack of sound. Its very emotional and physical. Believe me it cuts deep, deeper than my hearing ears are used to. The depth of their performances brought many of us to tears. It didn't take but a few songs, before I stopped clapping in the conventional sense, and happily, proudly clapped in sign. I've been bugging my niece ever since..."Hey hook me up, I want to learn how to sign." And "hey, when's the next show, I’m bringing extra rolls of film . . .
Signs of Life
