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All content copyright 2009 by Holly Gleason. Web design by Lauren Carelli.

February 2006

February 2006: Bode Miller Flies, Manuel Catwalks, Louise Scruggs Passes & The Lancer Steaks



Hermitage Café  1st Avenue, Nashville, TN


They are open all night and straight through the breakfast rush. Paper thin home fries and eggs whipped by hand. But they’re crowning glory is the succulent cheeseburger with the greasy rings of grilled onions that is the stuff over-active salivary glands are made of. On a recent run of great cheese- burgers, this is the classic grill/diner special: thin patty, crisp iceberg, slice of tomato, a touch of mayo and dill pickles that’ll make you suck your cheeks in. And the jukebox is vintage down home, classic country in the most old school way; Make the point to remember when the bars are closing, the day is fading or its time to kick your morning into gear and you’re 6-1-5 way.



Raining Sunlight


Driving through the sort of tropical torrential rain that is more Florida than Midwest, you crawl along and wonder if you’ll ever get home. Gray that penetrates you deeper even than the cold, and splattering drops reducing everything beyond your windshield to slate and iron and bits of black. 
Driving long enough—and south through Ohio is plenty of “long enough”—I drove through it. The clouds still pouring out lumpy pillows of ominous foreboding, promises of more to come. And yet, in those marshmallow-gone-sooty clouds, there were tears—and the torn places were lined with a mother of pearl golden tint. Driving more, that honey colored syrup poured right down out of the sky, shafts of a caramel shade that was enough to turn the whole world it fell upon gilded amongst the gray. 


Bode Miller


Reckless renegade. Lightning captured in flesh. Maverick athlete who defies everything we believe about sports, competition and victory. Bode Miller, raised without electricity, in-door plumbing or much structure, was deemed un-coachable—and now is America’s greatest hope for major medals in 5 different skiing events at the Winter Olympics.
   Not one to run for the win, but rather the rush of speed and burst of achieving new personal heights, Miller isn’t one to live—let alone play—by the rulebook. Quick to hang out, long on the party, deep into the intellectual realms behind his beloved sport, the first American gold medalist at the World Cup in 22 years blazes like s chemical fire, rages like a frat boy on spring break and embraces a deeper sense of his sport than many of the committed athletes who play smart—preferring to play fast, loose and quite possibly record-breaking in his pursuit of the ultimate run. Finishing isn’t the issue, bettering his own performance is; and so, a sizzling skiing reason to believe in the manifest destiny on which this country was formed, albeit a manifest destiny with poles, bindings and gravitational challenge second to none.


“The man who has no imagination has no wings”
                 Muhammed Ali


If you can’t close your eyes and dream; of catching the winning fly, floating somewhere near the equator and listening to the water lap your boat, playing the solo that drops Clapton’s (or Muddy Waters) (or Jimi Hendrix) jaw; then you have no respite. For if you can dream, you can escape even for a few stolen moments of bliss within the mundane.
   And if you can commit to a more farflung dream, you have a map and a ticket to where you wanna be. All you have to do is dream and believe, let your wings unfurl, let that dream keep fuel your reason—and next thing you know, you’re moving, transported to a place of grace and beauty. Dreams ARE like wings, or matches when its cold and dark, they sustain with nothing imagination—and that may be the most potent deal of all.

Velvet Gypsy Clogs L’Autre Chose

   Slightly platform with sequined appliqué‘s, these are the shoes that trod like an exile on main street, that would bring it all back home, whirl and twirl with free-falling, float like a feather abandon. Deep pearl gray with rounded heels, they make you four inches taller with the flowing gypsy weightlessness that leaves you grounded without being weighted down. For the paisley/patchouli center in your soul, these are the soles for your soul.
www.theperfectpairnashville.com


Exploring The Gap in Communications


It’s so easy to get frustrated and walk away when you can’t get on the same page. But if you—and the other person—can stay with it, try to figure out the place of disconnection, what you can discover both about the missing piece and how it comes together is almost as valuable as getting the point(s) across.
   Recently seated next to a dear friend at a late dinner, we found ourselves at the point of divergence. He voiced that it bothered him that this was so hurtful to me—thinking it was personal; I countered that my issue was where he was was creating a real shortfall in terms of what he deserved. The truth was each of us was so concerned about the other’s reality, the message on each end was lost. Once it was recognized, I felt cherished and he understood the issue of concern was about his welfare; Amazing what rappelling through the gaps can do for you.


Lancer Steakhouse   Prospect Ave., Cleveland, Ohio


The kind of place you’re told from birth “white people don’t go in there;” Where the reputation for life lived large, jazz played hot AND cool, characters consorting for the love of the moment. The Lancer Steakhouse is all that—and more. The way real on the too down low. Cold beers, an old school tavern-style bar with the bottles and the mirror behind, and people committed to living where they are and keeping the faith glass-by-glass.
   Even more than mystery hinted at, it was a place—sitting on a bar stool with a star that fell between the rock and the country and a hippie mom on the lam—where you just felt grounded. Grounded and happy to share the space and the moments, the conversations overlapping, the common ground startling and the willingness to be open to something beyond what you know profound.



“Be Here To Love Me: A Film About Townes Van Zandt”


Townes Van Zandt wrote songs like Japanese pen and ink paintings: spare, lean, essential. To hear “No Place To Fall” or “St. John The Gambler” is to understand the power of economy in the heart of a poet. Quite possibly schizophrenic, certainly too tender for the world in which we live—yet a high stakes bravado-slinger when in an altered state, Townes Van Zandt’s life was as transfixing as his songs.
   Director Margaret Brown spent five years quilting together snippets and patches of a life lived polemically—and in that rollercoaster sweep, she creates a strong witness to the man whose songs have been recorded by Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard (“Pancho & Lefty”), Emmylou Harris and Don Williams (“If I Needed You”) and roots/soul queen Jonelle Mosser devoted a whole album to his songs. In his eternal conflict of the soul, the willingness to throw himself into the tumult of life, often in ill-advised ways and the fragility of his truths imbue this with a riveting narrative line. Seek it out.



“Be Here To Love Me: A Film About Townes Van Zandt”


Townes Van Zandt wrote songs like Japanese pen and ink paintings: spare, lean, essential. To hear “No Place To Fall” or “St. John The Gambler” is to understand the power of economy in the heart of a poet. Quite possibly schizophrenic, certainly too tender for the world in which we live—yet a high stakes bravado-slinger when in an altered state, Townes Van Zandt’s life was as transfixing as his songs.
   Director Margaret Brown spent five years quilting together snippets and patches of a life lived polemically—and in that rollercoaster sweep, she creates a strong witness to the man whose songs have been recorded by Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard (“Pancho & Lefty”), Emmylou Harris and Don Williams (“If I Needed You”) and roots/soul queen Jonelle Mosser devoted a whole album to his songs. In his eternal conflict of the soul, the willingness to throw himself into the tumult of life, often in ill-advised ways and the fragility of his truths imbue this with a riveting narrative line. Seek it out.



No More Tangles 


When you live your life with your head hanging out the window like a sheep dog on shore leave and you have exquisitely silky hair, you can mat like a Rastafarian without trying. Managing the wads of knots and rats nests and clots of hair, managing that jungle and minimizing the pain become imperative. 
   In a world of high-priced beauty products, Johnson & Johnson’s little kids conditioner and detangler is still old faithful. You spray it on. You give it a few seconds. You comb through. Breakage is minimized, split ends eradicated. Simple. Easy. As close as the corner drugstore. Just because you used it when you were 6 doesn’t make it any less effective; a few squirts and you’ll see.


camo work-out pants w. pink embroidery Target



The children’s department has jersey workout pants in the drab greens of camouflage that hit us “concentrated” people right at the top of the foot. But even more brilliantly, one leg is emblazoned with pink intertwined filigree embroidery that girly girls up the most macho of shapes and prints. Two worlds collide on the way to the work-out room in a brilliant, whimsical fashion.


Lone Bluebird


They are pack birds, by nature. Yet there on Chagrin River Road, chasing a sunbeam on a lazy Saturday afternoon—fresh from a Rolling Rock at the legendary Greenville Inn—there was one perfect, gorgeous bluebird, wings pushing the air down and his almost peachy underside up as he wove in front of my car. Back and forth the bluebird teased and raced with us; harbinger of what? Good things, no doubt, and happiness; reminding me and my passenger both how incredible the gifts of company, simplicity, laughter, music and the examination of life and the way we live it can be and how empowering as we move to where we want to be.

Strawberry Lemonade Knudsen


Take a not-too-citric lemonade and infuse it with the earthy sweetness of strawberries and you get the notion of Knudsen’s hybrid summer quaffage. An absolutely thirst-quenching gulp, Strawberry Lemonade mixes an old stand-by with a quirky partner—strawberries, which while sweet by nature are also just the slightest bit tart in a whole other way—for a drink that vexes the tongue in delightful ways. And it’s potent enough that you can almost mix it half-strength with water; or pour it full-tilt into popsicle molds for a bit of sunshine on a stick.

Manuel @ Fashion Week 10 Feb


The Coco Chanel of flamboyant color, rhinestones and symbolism. It is a world of razor-cut lines, a history of both cowboys and rockers and a cultural imperative that is farflung and as sweeping as the passion that courses through the blood of the Mexican people. Manuel Cuevas—of Elvis’ solid gold suit, Gram Parsons slight cut pot leaves, pills and naked women hip-hugging bolero suit and Elton John’s flamboyant Western clothes, not to mention the Stones, Dwight Yoakam, r.e.m., Aerosmith, Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris as the Trio and countless other arbiters of cowbilly couture—tells stories in stitches: skeletons and flowers, crucifixes and virgins and pot leaves and whatever else strikes the fancy of the charismatic dreamers who cut a swath with their imagination and leave fashionistas trembling with delight.



movies in bed


Doing nothing, but lying under the covers. Remote in hand - -a stack of movies by the bed. All you have to do is doze and watch and drift away. Heaven on a rainy day; a gift of an evening in that takes you farther away than any big party could ever begin to.



Aboveground Records Edgartown, MA


Fans of John Cusak’s cinematic turn in Nick Hornby’s “Hi Fidelity” will be immediately at home at Martha’s Vineyard’s ultimate independent record store. With bins filled with vinyl and stacks upon stacks of CDs—new and used—this is a brilliant archived home for all the music one can imagine, and if they don’t have it, they’ll order it. Appropriately eclectic, deeply obscure in that indie-cred way, this is one stop shopping for the pulsepoint, the tasteful and the quirky. 
   And their logo (a small case “a” with a period after it) is a minimalist flag on the beach, proclaiming the power of the individual in the battle against mass-merchandisers and the homogenization of consuming. “a.”, indeed.



Russell Hammond


Every girl who’s been around more than 20 minutes has one: that boy who was already taken, yet who etched his name across her heart (and vice versa) in a way that is beyond indelible. And so it is that when the chips are down, the tides are pulling and the sea is rough, Russell Hammond knows—and he knows just what to say, do, offer to remind you that your grace, your sparkle, your ability to shine will deliver you through this turmoil as well.
   Sometimes the one you send back where they belong creates a deeper bond. For in acting in their best interest, honoring the commitments they’ve already made, you show a deeper form of love that earns a whole other kind of passion. Certainly I’ve been blessed with that fidelity of most recent vintage.

www.thesmokinggun.com

 When “A Million Little Pieces” blew up, it was thesmokinggun.com pulling the trigger. Muck-raking online, this is a site that lives to expose hypocrisy and the things people wish would go unseen. Yes, there is the catalogue of mug shots of the rich and notorious, and the riders of various traveling celebrities requirements—but there’s also an extensive archive of key court documents that shed insight into the DeLay fiasco, the Enron ethics handbook and various stings, snafus and cultural polemics colliding. 



Cabbagetown Ballad—Joyce Brookshire


A true displaced mountain moment, Cabbagetown Ballad is the culmination of life that was sown when Joyce Brookshire and her people moved from North Georgia’s mountain to Atlanta’s poor hillbilly section looking for work in the cotton mills. And while in Cabbagetown, Brookshire met and was mentored into becoming a plainspoke songwriter who captured the doubts, truths, celebrations and realities of poor working women coming of age almost half a century ago. Her third album matches the rusty barbed wire singer with the Reel World String Band, a 5-woman bluegrass band from Lexington, Kentucky who’ve been making music for almost three decades.
   Swinging from dry old time religion piano to organic folk, this is a fistful of songs that would recast Loretta Lynn as almost archivist, though her “Knight In Shining Armor” and “John Phillip Sousa” throw down a pretty serious gauntlet of truth in the face of male callousness, while “Love Crisis” is a clear-eyed recounting of needing more carnality than the testosterone in question can provide.
To order: .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)

Risotto and Mascarpone Cake with Apple + Raison Compote 
Sunset Grille, Nashville


Creamy, but crunchy. Sweet, chewy merging of the ultimate swollen but firm rice held together by the almost molten mascarpone and quickly fried to give it a golden shell. The apples and raisins provide a caramelicious bit of fruity, juicy punctuation. If it’s on the menu, absolutely: go for it. Indeed, I started my dinner with it.


EMDR



Fresh trauma happening right now gets inside, tightens around your heart, your breath. The adrenalin dumps and shoves your inner resolve in ways you can’t believe; and there you are, surrounded by the wreckage of whatever threw you. Something that’s over, that intellectually is beyond done—and yet your fight-or-flight mechanism keeps getting triggered, making the physiological so much more potent than the merely psychological.
   And so it is that EMDR offers a waking form of rem sleep, where your subconscious can re-order the trauma, help your body understand that the danger is no longer a factor. Let the perp walk right up to you and do jumping jacks, you’ll be able to have a measured reaction, respond appropriately and not be a slave to whatever happened. With sounds bouncing from ear-to-ear to deliver you to rem state, one need only recall the memory, let it play out—and with fresh trauma it seems, let the subconscious take over. Next thing you know, the active/first person/below the neck emotion is fading to a blur or gone, and you find your jumpiness evaporating as a new confidence ascends. 
   To call it a miracle is to undersell this procedure’s simplicity and relief.



ruby 


The color of the passion behind the very best kisses; the deepest shade of the valentines that are lashed to relentless ardor; the blue-steeped crimson that says bruised lips, plains of love and the relinquishing of one’s self to merging into a communion with another. To look at the color ruby is to smile, is to tingle, is to feel one’s pulse rush and laugh and cavort with sensual desire. Anything that can quicken our will to surge and merge is pretty worth embracing—and such is the exploding red that is more than cherry, sweeter than fire engine, deeper than fuchsia.


California Baby Bath Gel



Organic, sustainable, chemical-free from the point of growing; This is nut oil, gluten, soy, oat and dairy free with no sulfates, DEA colors, dyes, synthetic fragrances or numbing agents. California Baby does bubble bath that might require some manipulation (you have to froth the water as it’s coming out of the spout), but it has absolutely NO negative environmental impact—AND comes with its own bubble wand! 
   That said, the formulas are designed to have an aromatherapeutic impact. Whether it’s the French lavender-grounded Calming, the tangerine/sweet orange/chamomile-derived Overly Tired & Cranky, the ylang-ylang and sweet orange I Love You blend (with TWO bubble wands!) or the Douglas fir/eucalyptus Cold & Flu variety, they penetrate your synapses and put you in the right state of bliss and energy. All you have to do is open the tap, pour some under the faucet and let the soaking take you away.



Sweet & Low Jeans Lucky Brand



They hit high enough to not be pubis-bone grazing—relieving one of the fear of plumber crack or revelations of a non-Brazilian sort. They are low slung enough to remove the terror of being the pocket-liner office dork who doesn’t know that a belt isn’t meant to binds one’s arm pits. The denim has enough give to be uber-comfortable and easy, the cut is body consciousness enough to sleek rather than sloppy.

www.valuesofthewise.com

   To lead a purpose-driven life would seem to be the thing of far-flung philosophers and people with the money to indulge the luxury of principles, yet it’s a lot simpler—and more simplifying—than you’d imagine, Creating clarity of purpose and drawing on the thoughts of everyone from Ghandi to Mark Twain, Martin Luther King to Shakespeare, Buddha to Roosevelt, Jason Merchey has created a web-site devoted to creating a world where decency, clarity, strength, compassion and loyalty are driving reasons to create one’s reality—and they offer easy practices to help you midwife the life you want.


Peach Moonshine


“It’s brandy; moonshine’s illegal,” bellowed my friend who handed over the Mason jar with the pore-opening concoction that’d turned the color of dried apricots. Kept in the freezer, there’s a smoothness to the paint-dissolving liquid that demonstrates alcohol’s pure kick—and gives you a sense of how it feels to have flames run through your veins. A few sips’ll more than do you.



Classic Rock


Yet another genius British rock magazine; this one devoted to exhaustively researched and interviewed articles about bands that plug in and pound down. And while the Jurassic aspect of classic rock makes it seem tied to an atrophying reality, there are plenty of new/young bands plying an oeuvre that may not be large with the critical press, but directly connects with kids all over the world.
   So whether it’s Billy Gibbons writing his own piece about ZZ Top’s formative years; or a look at the why’s and how’s of Queen’s A Night at the Opera, which introduced the notion of operatic grandiosity to pop radio via “Bohemian Rhapsody” or a look at whatever happened to the Nymphs and the always irrepressible Inger Lorre, Classic Rock has you covered. Extensive enough to cover whatever aspect you’re craving in the stories that somehow slipped away untold, reviews to guarantee every rock is turned over and a CD to reinforce that particular issue make this a guilty pleasure you can almost justify.



“A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him…

Sometimes, it’s all how you choose to view what’s before you. The filters we bring us—kindness or understanding, curiosity or wonder—can transform the common into something that is transformative. Underneath the obvious, there are often treasures and wonders, common truths that can bind us and bring us closer together, differences that can enrapture and capture out imagination, miracles of perception ready to set us asparkle.
   It’s up to us; and in a world of beige and taupe and not much amplitude, why not seek a higher option? a sense of how precious and special whatever is before us can be? Because in seeing the best, the most vibrant in other things, people, moments, actions, we make ourselves better in the reflection.


Janie Goes To Jackson Hole


Walking pneumonia be damned, sometimes you just need a carrot to pull for. Post-poned, yes; but never ever abandoned; my dear friend Janie is probably strapped to a dogsled right now, shrieking with glee at the top of her lungs or chasing hunky cowboys who’s backs ain’t broke back at the mountain. Sometimes you just gotta throw yourself into the abyss and fly; My friend Janie’s doing cartwheels in the sky right now, romping and fromping and making merry like Mardi Gras without the beads or sticky sweet Hurricanes.


Calming Comfort Lotion Aveeno Baby


It smells of lavender and vanilla, a very ferry to the netherworld of sleep, and it is formulated to deep moisturize without sending even the most sensitive skin into a frenzy. Being an Aveeno product, it is enfused with colloidal oatmeal, which soothes and heals—and is also readily available in most drugstores. At least, I found mine at Walgreens; and that makes it a pretty universal soft skin plunder.


Louise Scruggs 1925-2006


The matriarch of the Scruggs family—Earl’s wife, Randy and Gary’s mother - -established a sense that integrity is to be protected at all costs. She also steadfastly held to the notion that standing up for what’s right, especially when it’s your own whose dream, music or happiness lies in the balance, isn’t an option, it’s a mandate; and she did it in a business where most everyone works from the place of whatever’s easiest and not making waves.
   Though Louise was, in many ways, behind the scenes, she was in many more ways, the one who made it all happen. She did all this maintaining a true sense of what was important, honoring her husband, children and religion with every step, every breath, every sentence. She’s an inspiration and a beacon and a standard-setter who will be missed.

bat signal


The universal “send help now” sign. You put that in the subject line of an e-mail—or leave the phrase on a friend’s voice mail—and your phone rings almost instantly. With a lot going on and too little clarity to go it alone, that phrase has netted me calls from London, Malibu, Reno, Cleveland and somewhere on the road at just the moment I needed them most. When you wanna use the “help, help” shorthand—telegraphing desperation in a neat, tidy, not hysterical way, all you gotta do is invoke the bat and you’re good to hand-holding, sound-boarding and whatever advice you seek.



Electric Blue Watermelon North Mississippi All-Stars


As a power-trio, the NMAS don’t go for swagger or swollen rock expansiveness, but taut grooves that sway with a full command of the sex that infuses blues with a verve that overflowed its banks into the fire that was rock & roll. A rural lean gives the All-Stars, a country tinge, but mostly, this is a laconic take on exploring musical themes that’re hung like a laundry line with bits of this, patches of that—and gruff vocals that bear witness to the river bank mud, the hot sun that beats down and the wind that is motionlessly moving across the day.
   So many tiles of musical antecedents—fife and drum corps to the Allmans, the Band to Willie Dixon to old school rap—combine into a jammy whammy that pulls you in with a tide of groove, hook and solos until you’re listening incessantly. With guests crow-voiced Lucinda Williams, sacred steeler Robert Randolph, rapper Al Kapone and the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, this is the state of gritty rootsy organic funk filtered through Caribbean classic “Bang Bang Lulu,” draggin’ blues “No Mo” that dredges a National guitar and juxtaposes it with droning chant-rap. Perpare to be taken hostage.


Old School Glamour Shoes Pedro Garcia


They do D’Orsay pumps—the classic high heel with the middles cut away, revealing THAT MUCH MORE foot—in satins that’re set-off by frayed edges and Swarovski crystals. But the angles of the rise, the way the heels descend from the shoe is swoon-inducing stuff. Men’s knees will buckle, women will walk with a little more sway—and the Lanvin-evocation from the ‘40s is righteously, deeply celebrated by this Spanish company that’s set its sites on luxe-retailers like Bergdorf Goodman.


“In the long run, we only hit what we aim at.”
—Thoreau


You have to make-up your mind, focus your vision, decide this is the direction to go in. Once you do that, everything falls into place—because everything’s moving in a uniformity of purpose that can’t be deflected or distracted. Aiming is where it begins; 


Bohemian Dada


Zelda gets a little shaggy—and the always sleek, chic uber-groomed Spaniel becomes a whole groovier sort of proposition. With her blond fur almost falling in her eyes, like some venus in furs, she is quick to romp, flop, drop and trot around with a big smile on her face, just entertained as anything, watching the world go by and wagging her tail at it all.


Stairway To Heaven: The Final Resting Places of Rock’s Legends 
J.D. Reed + Maddy Miller


An oversized paperback that is beautifully shot, Stairway To Heaven recounts the passing and burial realities of just about every rock star who has a final resting place to be documented. Rendered with a serious respect, this project brings the flickering reality of idolization into a final crystallization—exhuming truths about why iconography offers a reality to steer by, and it’s done merely through the presentation of the facts of each artist whose grave is included.
   Whether it’s John Lennon whose Central Park-located Strawberry Fields also anchored the grief for Jerry Garcia and fellow Beatle George 
Harrison or the Montgomery, Alabama grave of Hank Williams, Senior, the Parisienne crypt of Jim Morrison or the Memphis, Tennessee site of Elvis Presley’s final resting place, there’s a temerity to the subject matter that never gets reduced to satire or morbid freakishness. Bands are grouped together—from 4 of the original 5 Temptations to the various members of Lynyrd Skynyrd, punk rock icons the Ramones and the very-expired New York Dolls and the ever-jamming Southern family band Allman Brothers—and the tales of Gram Parsons’ being burned in the desert, making Joshua Tree, California more the site to honor the country-rock architectural pioneer or Sid Vicious’ ashes being sprinkled over murdered(?) girlfriend Nancy Spungen’s grave. 
   A whole new perspective on the way it all ends, a must read for any fan of modern rock & roll.

Stairway To Heaven: The Final Resting Places of Rock’s Legends 
J.D. Reed + Maddy Miller


An oversized paperback that is beautifully shot, Stairway To Heaven recounts the passing and burial realities of just about every rock star who has a final resting place to be documented. Rendered with a serious respect, this project brings the flickering reality of idolization into a final crystallization—exhuming truths about why iconography offers a reality to steer by, and it’s done merely through the presentation of the facts of each artist whose grave is included.
   Whether it’s John Lennon whose Central Park-located Strawberry Fields also anchored the grief for Jerry Garcia and fellow Beatle George 
Harrison or the Montgomery, Alabama grave of Hank Williams, Senior, the Parisienne crypt of Jim Morrison or the Memphis, Tennessee site of Elvis Presley’s final resting place, there’s a temerity to the subject matter that never gets reduced to satire or morbid freakishness. Bands are grouped together—from 4 of the original 5 Temptations to the various members of Lynyrd Skynyrd, punk rock icons the Ramones and the very-expired New York Dolls and the ever-jamming Southern family band Allman Brothers—and the tales of Gram Parsons’ being burned in the desert, making Joshua Tree, California more the site to honor the country-rock architectural pioneer or Sid Vicious’ ashes being sprinkled over murdered(?) girlfriend Nancy Spungen’s grave. 
   A whole new perspective on the way it all ends, a must read for any fan of modern rock & roll.

Stairway To Heaven: The Final Resting Places of Rock’s Legends 
J.D. Reed + Maddy Miller


An oversized paperback that is beautifully shot, Stairway To Heaven recounts the passing and burial realities of just about every rock star who has a final resting place to be documented. Rendered with a serious respect, this project brings the flickering reality of idolization into a final crystallization—exhuming truths about why iconography offers a reality to steer by, and it’s done merely through the presentation of the facts of each artist whose grave is included.
   Whether it’s John Lennon whose Central Park-located Strawberry Fields also anchored the grief for Jerry Garcia and fellow Beatle George 
Harrison or the Montgomery, Alabama grave of Hank Williams, Senior, the Parisienne crypt of Jim Morrison or the Memphis, Tennessee site of Elvis Presley’s final resting place, there’s a temerity to the subject matter that never gets reduced to satire or morbid freakishness. Bands are grouped together—from 4 of the original 5 Temptations to the various members of Lynyrd Skynyrd, punk rock icons the Ramones and the very-expired New York Dolls and the ever-jamming Southern family band Allman Brothers—and the tales of Gram Parsons’ being burned in the desert, making Joshua Tree, California more the site to honor the country-rock architectural pioneer or Sid Vicious’ ashes being sprinkled over murdered(?) girlfriend Nancy Spungen’s grave. 
   A whole new perspective on the way it all ends, a must read for any fan of modern rock & roll.