John Fahey

Album Notes for Days Have Gone By

We last saw Fahey exhibiting a great deal of celerity and alacrity, playing somewhat vociferously in the direction of Knott's Berry Farm, where he hoped, in a tumelious demeanor to locate, the formerly quiet, gentle, charming and enchanting berryherd grover, Molly, but after a great deal of retardation, due to the supereminent nature of the intragraphical agency of the box-car in which he was inspiritly domiciled, and not at all synchronously, disembarking somewhat emergantly, at the flaccid, closely-knit angle, he, to his great infertrograeciousness, was informed by the coalescent, but finite and mutable Personal Administress of the irascible but cogent and profligate Collective, that she, the very uncommon but idiosyncratic individual, of whom he, Fahey, was opprobriously but coruscately in search, had met with a most ill-started and unpropitious, but not totally disasterous accident, which had left the little girl in a somewhat discreditable but blithesomeness and conceivable estate, which the pauseating executess informed the intrepid but confident Fahey, was not altogether irretrievable, but nonethless and, at the same time dauntless, depending upon the intentional posture of the censorious and anomalous Fahey, who, of he so desired could, stated the importunate conductress, save the sanguine but sardonic, saturine and saucy Molly, from her salient sagacity. Unfortunately, Fahey was to find that in the long run, he could not save her from her questionable sapience. But we are anticipating.

"All on a sundaee," the sennit Laydee continued, "wee ware invaded by an armee of iniquitous Getchellites. The object of their foray waz thee of hyme thu hast spake," quoth she. Aftar virtualie inundating our propertee, the head Getchell informed us that her cohorts would cease their hostilities if and only if we would hand over to them the intrepid young laydee of hyme thy spake. In the interest of economy and the capatalistic nature of our corporate enterprise, we of course complied with her request, quite naturally. It is not the individual who counts so much as the family or unit. One must understand the legitimate use of corporate power and its appropriate application in all cases of course, this being, you see, no withstanding, nothing to the contrary.

"Them Getchellbites," the Administress went on, "they drug 'er off n' usin' this hear big box one of 'em drug out, (I think they called it somethin' lak the Getchellbite Transforbation Machine or somethin' 'er uther) they made 'er over again an' she come out with lets lak a 'gaters. So now she's 'alf 'gater an' 'alf Molly so they calls 'er quite naturally the Mollygator. Now she cain't talk now nuter. Musta done somethin' to 'er brain ah says, 'n the boss, 'e takes 'er 'n puts 'er on display jus' lak she's one o' th' animals. Now yer has ter pay fifty cents ta see 'er po' gal."

Fahey went into the tent and looked at his beloved Mollygator; half Molly, half alligator, bare-breasted and speechless at that. How horrible. He left the tent quickly, but was approached by the staunch superintendent of employees.

"Ah, Mr. Fahey, if you don't mind, I, have something which may be of interest to, ah, you. The head Getchell left this for you."

She then handed Fahey the letter and this is how it read:

Dear John: Oh, how I hate to write but in view of your recent insubordination I have changed your beloved brat into a Mollygator. It may be of interest to you to know that I can also change her back to her original form. But of course you will have to comply with certain of my requests. To be more specific you must broadcast over my station KROWWELL; you must come to San Bernardino and record forty hour-long radio shows for me. I will then pay the farm your wages (since of course they are making a great deal of money displaying the Mollygator and would not want her changed back unless we paid them a rather large sum.) Expect to see you soon, nice John. As always, yours sincerely - G

Fahey steadfastly went to San Bernardino and complied with the Getchell' s demands. The farm was soon paid off and the Getchell had one of the technicians transform the Mollygator to her original form, or at least for the most part thereto. Happily, the two were reunited and Fahey and Molly spent the next month or two in peace and quiet.

But, a letter arrived one day from Folk-Festival-Man. One hundred dollars would be paid to Fahey if he would participate in the 1966 Berkeley Folk Festival, and remain sober throughout. Fahey over restless replied in the affirmative and set off for Berkeley one bright spring day.

At Berkeley, he wes well received both by the public and by a friendly, helpful white witch who saved him from a frightful demon by spiriting him away to her aerie, amidst the Berkeley hills in a chariot pulled by her flying salamanders, Dante and Alexandros, the former being somewhat reproachful and moralistic - as was in character with his light purple-white spotted skin; Alexandros was more gallant, flashing his orange belly and tail. Both were attracted to Fahey due to the resemblance of his finger picks and their beloved meal-worms. Spells were cast and various exercisims were performed which enabled Fahey to play without alcoholic stimulation. Black jade crosses were found to be a particularly potent taslisman. Fahey was quite an experience for this kindly witch too. Sitting under the ripe plum trees wherein hung the warped violins and split bass viol, Fahey received his first exposure to classical, theosophical witchcraft and housekeeping. Robert Pete Williams also had a great deal of fun experimenting with these instruments when he came out to see his old friend Fahey in between their respective performances.

He (Fahey) met with bellicosity only occasionally and at the hands of local politicians, labor union leaders, Birchers and sommunists, such as Phillip Ox and The Bleeder, who (the latter) it will be recalled, after bleeding profusely for a rather long period upon the stage of the Pauley Auditorium (the audience found the logic of his blood overwhelming) Concluded a sylogism by having Ox sing a song during a debate concerning the nature and effectiveness of tropical songs. Fahey, who had sought during the debate to prove his points by the use of reason and logic, soon found himself forcefully evicted by the Berkeley students .

Hopping a Lionel train he hoped to arrive in Los Angeles again but unfortunately the train did not stop until it arrived at the rather unique city of Texarkana.

Texarkana, it should be observed, is rather a schizophrenic city in view of the fact that half of it is loated in Arkansas and half of it in Texas. Some have even speculated that the name of this proud city is in some way related to its aberrant hodographical condition. Yer, it has a peculiar charm of its own. There are several factors contributing to its uniqueness, among them the often ignored fact that it could not have a peculiar charm which was not its own, since, tis peculiar charm must (it shall be admitted) find its ground of being in the place (hodologically speaking) in which that charm which we are speaking is located, and of course (it shall be immediately apparant) that place of which we are speaking (namely, Texarkana) is identical with itself, and not identical with anything else (of which we, in any case have heard) and thus, the ontos of this charm of which we speak (as is self evident) being dependant upon that upon which it is dependant (namely the existence and self identity of the city which we are discussing (namely, Texarkana)) is dependant upon the existence of this very city, and not upon the existence of any other city, (how could such a thing be? It is inconceivable is it not?) and is dependant upon the self-identity of this city, and not upon the identity of this city with some other city such as this is logically possible, but emperically rather improbable); and thus we see why it is the case that Texarkana has a unique, and peculiar charm all its own. However, I digress; I merely wanted to point out that the city of Texarkana, has a peculiar charm which could not be attributed to any other city in view of the fact that were it to have a peculiar charm which was not its own, Texarkana would not in fact be Texarkana because (as can plainly be seen) it could then be some other city, such as Memphis, Smokey Ordinary, or Enfield, North Carolina, to which we applied the name "Texarkana". But we would be in error in doing (would we not?) for the self-identity of all of these "places" (and with no other "places" is established in the fixity of their very ontos; that is to say, Texarkana is Texarkana, and the word "Texarkana" is merely a (perhaps ostensive) (Certainly not extensive or intensive) sound, a word no less, by which we are forced by the very nature of our aufheben, and by the non-fluidity of Being-In-General, not to mention our own Dasin servitude, to designate it as such. But I say "merely a sound, a word, " etc., when in fact I mean to imply no derogation of the gift of language, its necessity, the the wonder of its manifestation in the "printed word" and its usefulness in conveying important information about facts among people. Language should be looked upon with awe, and we should not defame it in anyway.

In Texarkana, Fahey met with some detectives who had been sent in search of him by the Big Sunflower, a wealthy New York art dealer, and collector of variant and unusual species of sunflowere. The Big Sunflower had heard of Fahey's field-work in, and knowledge of the South, and had one of his detectives sign him to a rather lengthy contract. The former arrived the next day in one of his Rolce-Royces and ordered Fahey to drive him to the "quarters" for it was one of the Big Sunflower's typical mental abberations that the particular species of sunflower for which he was searching could be found almost exclusively, that is to say not premptively, in areas in which Negroes resided.

At this point I should like to make another degression, in the interest of Volkspracheology. A definition of terms, is I feel, that is to say, I think both necessary and infertrogracious. "Quarters" in the state of Mississippi is fuctionally equivalent to other local substantives such as "Neggertown", "Shineytown", "Coonville" etc. The same is true in Arkansas. But in nearby Texas towns, the designation for the areas in which Negroes are found residing are (to be more precise) to be for the most part found residing (allowing for disographical/hydrological discrepencies) the term used by both Negroes and whites is "the flats". In view of the fact that, and in so far as, many of these areas designated as "the flats" are not flat at all, geologically speaking, an acteological exposition might well serve as the subject of some reputible folklorit's disertation. Some of these areas are not only not flat, but convex, concave and concupiscible as well as concourse conduplicated, somewhat condyloidally. In the LBJ ranch and radio station region, the term used is of course the "colloured section" for obvious reasons.

Such areas are for an equally obscure reason, almost uniformly located, by first (speaking practically) locating a pair of metallic (sometimes four) girders running parallel and at right angles to "the quarters ". These girders, are generally the demarcation line which separate the "quarters" from the sections of these towns. Unfortunately, the writer must express his ignorance, of the nature or purpose of these girders. Upon the artifacts are Iron Horses, and people have been seen attempting to navigate them. The question arises of course as to whether these Iron Horses, as they are called, and people are in some way dependant upon these girders; but this seems most unlikely. For as we view nature in its endless variety and profussion, we see an underlying nobility and unity - - - - - a complex network of basic patterns, similar, in many respects, to a macrocosmic spider's web. (And does not the web imply the spider. Of course not Material implications are to be thought of always as immaterial. That is why they are called "material.") As we view nature's quiet but iffusive formality we see that all species capable of self-induced movement are in no way dependant upon any man-made artifacts, for in fact (it will be admitted) before there were artifacts, there were men, and before there were men there were animals capable of self-determined locomotion. What is true then of all that we have observed of nature in general, must also be true of the particular. It must therefore be the case that the Iron Horses are in no way dependant upon the metallic girders. This unusual hodological form of town planning seems indigenous to the South. But unfortunately the writer is unable to account for it.

Texarkana (as anyone can plainly see who visits the South) is a large southern city, with a peculiar charm all its own. In relation to other southern cities and towns, all (it will be admitted) of which have their own unique charm, Texarkana is enormous. It is in this metropolis that local merchants and sheep herders come on weekends to procure, that is to obtain, rolls of jelly, an old southern custom, (although it will be admitted, not a custom, peculiar to the South; for in fact before there was a South, there had to be a North (how could one speak of the one without the other) and before there was a North there were people (for, it will be admitted, it is people who gave these terms "South" and "North" to their respective, corresponding spatial coordinates), but these were no rolls of jelly and before there were people, and neither were there people before there were rolls of jelly; so we see that in view of the fact that rolls of jelly and people must, (it will be admitted,) bear a cotemporal ontological- fixity relationship) rolls of jelly, are not autochthonos to the south. (Rather the reverse is the case.)

Our two heroes (if I may be permitted to use the term somewhat loosely, that is not tightly) soon found the inevitable, steel girders and Fahey drove the car across them.

The two soon found many dark skinned citizens, many unusual species of sunflowers. Later, Fahey was ordered to drive into the Land of Paranoia, east, on highway 67. At Emmet Arkansas, the Big Sunflower found two species which had never been previously discovered west of the Mississippi, whose names given in the botany books are, "Devil's Rain", and "Circle 'Round the Moon". Rejoicing in this discovery, the Big Sunflower, anticipating having his name printed in some botany journal or other, told Fahey the names of these plants.

"Ah, " said Fahey, "this last should be a good plant. There was a circle around the moon the night I met my beloved Molly. I am glad that you have made this discovery, for it is a good omen. We see, in viewing nature, in observing her manifold variety and infertrograciousness, in the cycle of the seasons, the cavetto of her selachian, that we, spectators as it were of this all-encompassing. Midgard, this terraqueous globe, are but the pupils of some most generous school-marm - - - - Nature let us call her; that not only our language but we ourselver, as well as nature, are but metaphors for each other. The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open. Thus I take this man-made object, this paramount ring of clay to be but a metaphor for some natural object. And behind every natural object there lies a spiritual truth. I see good fortune ahead, my scrawny friend, for as it was of old, it shall always be: when Leonidas and his three hundred matriarchs consumed one day in dying, and the sun and moon came each and looked at them once in the steep defile of Thermopylas; when Arnold Winkelried, in the high AIps, under the shadow of the avalanche, gathered in his side a sheaf of Austrian spears to break the line for his comrades; are not these heroes entitled to add the beauty of the scene to the beauty of the deed? Circle 'Round the Moon, indeed."

"Yes, I see what you mean, " replied the Big Sunflower. As the days passed, more and more sunflowers were added to their fold, the harvest was indeed bountiful, as Fahey had predicted.

Would, however, that such visionaries could only see a little farther than they in fact always see.

Soon the Big Sunflower had to return to New York, and upon arriving at that magnificent city, the two parted. Fahey, however before departing stood on the top story of the art gallery as the sun was setting, and said to himself, I think I will go to Boston to see my old friend Ralph Riverboat. Hitchhiking, he arrived shortly and was put up by a local fishmonger, who kindly assisted him along with Riverboat in obtaining jobs. Fahey' s triumphal summer tour of Boston in 1966 will be remembered forever. He was received, lauded, and magnified by all of the local entertainment establishments.

But again, while pondering beside the Charles River one day, the desire to travel again over came our hero. "It is summer, " Fahey thought to himself, "I have the money and I think I will return to the ground of my being."
Purchasing a new car, he drove steadfastly and pertinaciously, from Boston to Takoma Park where he arrived in time to attend the funeral of the Father of the Flea who had been murdered in Brazil. At a party in nearby Virginia he met up with two of his old friends, Michael Gowen and Melinda II, not to mention Maxim Elias I and II. Melinda II, having become only too well acquainted with Bleeding man, began to bleed from one of her numerous ulcers at Fahey's gala concert held at St. Michael and All Angels Church, September 10, 1966. In the midst of one of the songs, the poor girl stood up screaming and shouted, "Help me, help me, I'm bleeding"
"Is it your period coming on? " asked Fahey.
"No, no it's your music. It's made my peptic ulcer bleed."
"Oh, that one, " replied Fahey. Well perhaps you have been eating too much peppermint stick ice cream? "
Fahey continued, perceptively as usual.
"Someone take me home," she screamed.

Then, the inisipid, conniving, R. Grubbert Gardner took her gently be the arm and assisted her to his VW bus. On the way home the usual Gardneresque seduction scene occurred, which thus betrayed not only Fahey, but Gardner' s girl-friend as well. It was this same grimy individual who arranged the platform on which Fahey was playing that evening to tilt and slip so that Fahey fell off of the stage in the middle of one of his better songs, narrowly avoiding damaging his famous Bacon and Day guitar, not to mention himself.

After the last encore of the concert, Fahey looked out across the mist arising from the ever-present waters of the Northwest Branch of the Pawtauxent River, which conjoins itself with the Sligo's pauseating waters at Takoma Park; pondering again, he spoke, half to himself, and half to the waters, "I believe I'll go back home. " (meaning of course, Los Angeles). Across the mist and to the west were the emergant Sligo Mountains, beyond them lay much space and time, but beyond all that lay California . And across the Mojave was Molly.


In early 1967 Mr. Ed Denson of the Record Company at Berkeley asked me (since I have for several years taken it upon myself to chronicle the events of the exciting life of John Fahey and his friends - something I have done not merely for the fun of it by the way, but out of an intense curiosity to learn what it is that lies behind this man's music - and I admit I am a great admirer of his music - what creative well-spring resides within this "living legend" within our midst - what Uhrsprung, what slowly tithing Gordian Knott, what muse be it demonis or angelic or perhaps both, speaks through this man, and what drives him on, across the country and back again, creating, always creating. I confess that after several years of research I still have not the faintest idea, yet I persist.) to try and get Fahey to record another album. I flew to Los Angeles in the Takoma Aereoplane and soon approached what turned out to be merely Fahey's former residence. I was net at the door by Tree Sloth Man who was busy editing the latest edition of the LITTLE SANDY REVIEW and drinking beer. From his Hi Fi set emitted the rustic sounds of Whoopie John Wilfahart which brought back pleasant memories of Minnesota.

"Have you seen John Fahey lately?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," he replied noncomitally.
"Perhaps you could tell me where I might find him?"
"He's sort of disappeared from the scene, I think, I don't want to be too definite about this. There are always other possibilities you know. But a few months ago (I don't want to say exactly how many) I used to see him occasionally on his way to the beach, usually with some funny looking little girl who had, as I recall, green teeth. I don't want to say that that's the truth for sure, but I think that they were green. He said her name was Molly, or Harry or Mestuza or something. Then later he was always alone. He said Molly had left him because he wasn't jewish (I believe that's the religion he mentioned, but mind you I'm not absolutely certain). He was always depressed after this, and no longer went to the beach. He sat in his room drinking whiskey - - - - bourbon, I believe, but I don't want to commit myself to the fact that it was actually bourbon. It might have been scotch. No, it couldn't have been. He never drinks scotch. I don't know, I'm not sure. It doesn't matter anyway. It was some kind of whiskey in any case. I can almost say that indecisively. He was always singing this funny sone. I' not certain how it went but I think it got on the tape recorder. Let me look. Yes here it is, I'll play it."

He played it. Frankly I have no idea what it means, but this is a transcription of Tree Sloth Man's tape recording:
"Oh yes, whom Allah gave the gift of sight, Fill your eyes with beauty and delight Spare me a thoutht to whom your wonderous world, Is but a city of eternal night."
Tree Sloth Man continued: "He said he was confused, because, he said, he couldn't get along with the women he liked. He was going to go up to see some psychoanalyst or something in Miricle Valley Arizojahi. I guess he did. I haven't seen him in months," he concluded opening another beer bottle and a can of heat, somewhat simultaneously.

Thanking him I left immediately in the Takoma Aeroplane and sped off to Arizojhai. There I inquired of the first citizen I saw if there was some famous psychoanalyst living there. He replied that many people came to town to see one J. Wilshnamurti, who he said was not exactly a psychoanalyst, but then again he wasn't sure exactly what he was except that people came from all over to consult him concerning problems. He said that Wilshnamurti charged nothing and directed me to his house, where I found Mr. Wilshnamurti discoursing with several people. After the session I asked if I might speak with him for a few minutes. He agreed.

"Yes," he said, a little later, I have seen Fahey, but he has gone. And, unfortunately I cannot tell you where he has gone, "But," he went on," Fahey said that in time someone would be along to look for him. He left a box for whoever it might be. Let me show it to you." I opened it up and found to my surprise two boxes of tapes marked "Fahey, Vol. VI, "DAYS HAVE GONE BY" "For Issue." (the title of the record was later changed in the interest of publicity, and in view of the fact that the song, "The Portland Cement Factory At Monolith California" represents a much later and more mature example of Fahey's music.)

We talked about Fahey and his music for awhile and then Wilshnamurti showed me a rough draft of a section of a book which he was going to have published.

"In my new book I deal with creativity and with creative people," Wilshnamurti said." I have known a great many of them and this book is addressed particularly to them. I quote in extenso from various dialogues which I have had with creative people and whereas I do not use anybody's name in the book, I can show you a portion of it which is a portion of a dialogue between Fahey and myself if you would like to see it."

I found the as yet unpublished portion of the book to be extremely enlightening regarding Fahey and his music. In it I found that the first words which Fahey had spoken to Wilshnamurti at their semi-recent meeting were: "A lot of days have gone by, not just since I last saw you, but I feel a great weariness come over me, especially since Knott's Berry Farm Molly left me. I am very tired. Tired. . . . . . "

A long discussion of Fahey's music follows which will be published eventually in the notes to one of Fahey's future recordings (if we can find him). Evidently Fahey named the album "Days have gone by" after talking with Wilshnamurti. Wilshnamurti confirmed what Tree Sloth Man had said, that Fahey was very depressed.

Unfortunately there were no indications in the tape boxes as to what the songs were about. The titles were listed and that was all. But, I have played these selections for some of Fahey's friends in Berkeley and while I do not wish to imply that I have the absolute truth about the nature of these works, I think I have gleaned enough to state the following. In part I quote for one of Fahey's few intimates, D. P. Banjoeawiz:

1. The Revolt of the Dyke Brigarde. Played in open C tuning. Originally called "Pat's Blues". Fahey heard Pat Sullivan playing a song in this tuning in late 1962 and later tried to recreate it and came up with this . Sullivan claims her song is not at all the same. Fahey renamed it after a parting of ways. Later when Fahey and Sullivan had become friends again, Fahey said he would give it its original name but for the fact that everyone had come to know of it by its present title. To quote DPB "This song is a remarkably cheerful song for Fahey. In it he generally shows the joi de vivre which he might occasionally feel when and if he found occasion to do so. If you like Fahey you'll like this one."

2. Impression of Susan. Played in open G minor . Composed in Arkansas in July 1966 upon reading a letter from a pen pal in Brazil, named Susan Turner of West Grant Ave., Takoma Park, Md., Fahey's home. According to DPB: Nevertheless Fahey apparently never met the girl. It is a lovely piece which opens a new vista in Fahey's musical development. The piece shows clear influence of and perhaps confirmation of the famous Jungesque theory equating the genetive principle with the animalistic nature of a particularly bovine variety of creature. Those who are not familiar with the Master's earlier opi will find this one tough going." (I frankly don't know what DPB is talking about here - Ed.)

3. Joe Kirby. Played in standard tuning. Key of A minor. No information available on Fahey's relationship to Joe Kirby (if he had one at all). No one ever heard of him except Son House who said in an interview with Tree Sloth Man held at Venice, Calif., May 7, 1965 of which a tape recording is on deposit at the Folklore Center at UCLA, that: "(Joe Kirby) was a white fellow (who) owned a plantation on up above. . . . where I lived on (highway) 61 right off on Claxton (probably Clayton - - - ed.), Mississippi. Me Charley (Patton) and Willie (Brown) and all that was our old stomping ground. That's where we used to drink so much of that corn whiskey made in coffee pots and everything. That's where I got Louise at, Louise Johnson. She lived over at that place, and that's why she got to go with me and Charley then to Grafton Wisc. to make a record playing piano. . . (That is) where we played all the time. " DPB: "Composed at disolution of of relationship with Melinda I (also subject of "101 is a hard road to travel") Circa June, 1965. I cannot explain why he named it thusly."

4. Night Train to Valhalla: Composed at Martin's Esso Servicecenter, Lanly Park Md., circa Feb 1960, an analogue to Roy Acuff's "Night Train to Memphis". Played in open G, key of D. DPB: This song was written while John was quite young and when he was in one of his comparatively restless moods. At this point he was searching for a mysterious new line of thought in music that never quite materialized, and was later abandoned like a lonely old ghost town. You won't like it unless you like his earlier albums. And you won't like them unless you like this one.

5. The Portland Cement Factory at Monolith California. Played in open C. Composed by Fahey in late 1962 or early 1963 after driving from Albuquerque to Berkeley. Fahey was impressed by the contrast between this enormous edifice, the smoke which poured from it and the surrounding green hillsides. Upon arriving in Berkeley he took a bath, had Pat over for dinner and composed it in her presence later in the evening.

6. A Raga Called Pat: Played in open C tuning with the top two strings in unison (no third). According to DPB "merely impressionistic ramblings while thinking about Pat improvised on the stage of the ash grove (and recorded there also) in June, 1966. The majority of the audience left during its performance. Agitated members went to the zoo and brought forth animals to alarm Fahey. But he finished the set which was a benefit for The Hook.

7. My Shepard Will Supply My Needs. Played in standard tuning, mostly in the key of C . Improvisation upon and statement of the theme of an appalachian folk hymn.

8 . Grandfather's Clock. Standard tuning, key of C, accompany guitar is R. Gubbert Gardner, capoed way up the neck somewhere. What can you say about this song except that it supplies comic relief?

9. Days Have Gone By. Recorded at Frederick, Maryland at the phonytone recording studios, April 1962. Accompanying voices are Harmonica ED, Jolly Joe Buzzard and the Spider Lady. Fahey speaks once. Played in standard tuning with the bottom E string lowered to a D, key of D. Made as a demonstration tape for Pat Sullivan.

10. We Would Be Building. Harmonics played in open C tuning. Tune played in standard tuning, key of C. Composed by Jean Sibelius, known as "Finlandia" the national anthem of Finland. Learned by Fahey in church as a youth under its present title as a hymn.

Referring to the recording in general DPB says the following: Only by the commandeering of such superior and ultra-modern stuff was it possible at all to capture the inner and outer essences and superficialities of that man' s MUSIC . (Presumably DPB is referring to the mastering job done by Sierra Sound Studios.) As Henry Miller has said, "a little too much light, a little too much energy. . . . . . and one is rendered unfit for human society." So it goes, sometimes, with our boy. But only sometimes.

Evil ones will tell you he is wierd, but his heart is pure (?-ed. ). This purity was never more in evidence that in this remarkable record. Fahey afficionadoes will dissolve. The general public will be confused. Those who know Fahey will be disturbed. But, as there is always a new year to come, perhaps the first month of this newyear will be bright for Fahey. And though, as a rule, blossums do not burst in that season, perhaps for Fahey a new variety of flower will bloom in that month. Such being the case, we may anticipate at midyear, a great bursting- forth. Perhaps we will be blessed by an opithalamium or two.


All Takoma Records should be available from any local friendly superior record dealer, or can be ordered otherwise for $5.00 the copy, postpaid, from: Takoma Records, Box 3233, Berkeley, California, 94711.

B 1001 - Bukka White - Mississippi Blues
C 1002 - John Fahey - Blind Joe Death
C 1003 - John Fahey - Death Chants, Breakdowns & Military Waltzes
C 1004 - John Fahey - Dance of Death and Other Plantation Favorites
C 1005 - Robbie Basho - The Seal of The Blue Lotus
C 1006 - Fahey, Basho, Taussig & Ochs - Contemporary Guitar
C 1007 - Robbie Basho - The Grail and The Lotus
C 1008 - John Fahey - The Great San Bernadino Birthday Party
B 1009 - J. B. Smith - Ever Since I Have Been A Man Full Grown
A 1010 - The Possum Hunters - Death On Lee Highway
B 1011 - Robert Pete Williams - Louisiana Blues
C 1012 - Robbie Basho - Basho Sings!
A 1013 - Tony Thomas - Old Style Texas and Oklahoma Fiddlin
C 1014 - John Fahey - Days Have Gone By
C 1015 - Charlie Nothing - The Psychedelic Saxophone of Charlie Nothing
C 1016 - Phil Yost - Bent City
C 1017 - Robbie Basho - The Falconer's Arm Volume I
C 1018 - Robbie Basho - The Falconer's Arm Volume II
C 1019 - John Fahey - The Voice of the Turtle
C 1020 - John Fahey - The New Possibility
C 1021 - Phil Yost - Fog-Hat Ramble

Contributed by Chris Downes, Sydney, NSW, Australia.

Days Have Gone By