Put Her in the Backseat and Drive Her To Tennessee

Just got back from Tennessee, where I wish I was still. I can't say I missed blogging for one minute. Here's a shot taken during what photographer Ross Halfin calls "God's Light" one evening. Not a single thing was done to this image in Photoshop. Straight from the camera to here. (Click it for the big, screensaver version, free of charge. Hurry while supplies last.)


I'm so enamored of Tennessee, I even love their state flag. Understated, tasteful.

We didn't watch TV for a week, only checked Internet for emergency work emails and only on the computer that had a barely passable connection via Verizon. AT&T was out, as was Sprint. No cell phone service. We just hung out on a porch in the woods in the north central mountains of the state, went swimming and boating (Where's My Jetski?) in a lake and had three great meals a day, no between-meal snacks.

And yes, I've posted this cringe-inducing video before, but it's always worth a second look, especially since Prince sings about Tennessee. In that funky Prince way.

Purple Clouds Majesty

In the aftermath of Tropical Storm Fay, we loaded five trash bins and two giant bags with downed limbs and assorted tree castoffs. As the final remnants of the storm are crossing the Panhandle, the southern bands of the system leaving Central Florida are quite pretty. The distant rumblings of thunder this evening called me outdoors to witness the beauty of nature's anger.
If clouds are your thing, you'll enjoy rock photographer Ross Halfin's travel section. He spends a lot of time flying around the world in First Class, shooting out the window. The guy is good.

Forget Those Pictures From the Front Row

Go backstage instead.
Watch Ross Halfin's blog (or "Diary" as he insists on calling it) for what will surely be the best images from the recent Zeppelin thing in London. Halfin likes to mention every other day or so that he, "Went to Nobu with Jimmy," or "Was in Tokyo guitar shopping with Jimmy," so you knew the guy was going to have access.

Never have so many rock journalists (and wannnabe rock journalists) pissed themselves in fawning glee over a concert. I'm sure it was good, but I get the feeling Page could've played a kazoo and made many of these sycophantic writers drool in worship.

They Give Us Those Nice Bright Colors

The traditionalists, Ross Halfin among them, decry the advance of digital photography because, "It's about taking photos, not fucking around on a laptop and putting any old shit out and claiming you're a photographer... any idiot with a digital camera thinks they're a photographer."

I would agree that it is much harder to take a good photograph on film. Having played with film all of my life and now using digital, I prefer digital. I'm still learning. I'm not claiming to be a photographer, but I do enjoy "fucking around on a laptop and putting any old shit out."

These are from the weekend. The first is when I happened upon the Fighting Pink Shirts vs. the Illegal Immigrant Brits in a local soccer match. I like the action of the cleat to the groin - and the motorcycle in the parking lot in the background.

The second is just a nice contrast. When you envision Zep-Heads in the park, you don't generally picture them reading "Smart Money."

(Click 'em - they get bigger)

You Rock, Dude

My advance apologies to any faithful readers who own a tie like this.

The guy who buys these ties is thinking, "Hey, man. Just 'cause I wear a suit doesn't mean I'm not a rebel....man!" He's got a foot in both worlds and the kids in the office will respect him because he's a cool boss. He is the same guy who keeps a shiny pair of his and hers Harleys in the garage for Sunday rides in full leather tough-guy costume, headscarf mandatory. (Not a headscarf fashioned from a bandana, which is what a headscarf is supposed to be, but a pre-cut, pre-tied headscarf with a Harley logo on it.)

The kids in the office are thinking, "What a dork," or whatever kids call dorks these days.

Speaking of old rockers not being cool, check out Ross Halfin's excellently brutal synopsis of a recent Stones concert in London. "Dire...lifeless...dreadful...awful."

Snark - Thy Name is Ross

Ross Halfin gets his 5 minutes in The Independent. Known more for his rock icon photography than for what he loves to shoot, clouds and travel, Mr. Halfin graciously granted me permission to use the photograph here as background for some liner notes on an upcoming CD insert. I am fascinated by clouds and love to shoot them, but Halfin is much better at it, often taking shots from the window of his first class seat on a trans-Atlantic flight.

One of the pioneers of brutal blogging, a term the photographer rejects, Halfin is a master of the cutting retort or snarky observation. When I inquired of him about the photograph he said he'd get to me and hadn't yet delivered, Ross shot back, "I'm busy, I'll get round to it. I'm not your SLAVE."

He lives a charmed life, but he swears it's tough work. I'm sure dealing with the monstrous egos of the music biz would get on your nerves after a while, so I've urged Halfin to put out a coffee table book of nothing but cloudscapes. His work has appeared in Rolling Stone and a thousand other rags, but maybe some London agencies working with giant budgets can get him some ad work and help fund his dream of getting away from crybaby celebs and the PR people that surround them.

His credit on the aforementioned project will read: Cloud photograph courtesy of Ross Halfin, a true artistic and literary genius masquerading as a rock photographer.