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September 21, 2020

Alvino Rey and Talking Steel Guitar Puppet Stringy actually talked

Alvino  Rey
and Talking Steel Guitar Puppet
Stringy,   actually talked


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•14,489 views•

•14,489 views•

Alvino Rey   

Talking Steel Guitar 

  "Stringy"

•14,489 views•

Dec 7, 2011

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Alvino Rey's 'Talking Steel Guitar' could actually talk!

 

Giving Rey's orchestra its distinctive sound -- some of Rey's critics called it a 'gimmick'

 

Rey played with virtuosity, demonstrating his guitar's 'singing' quality by manipulating tone and volume.

 

'Stringy' (the guitar's nickname) was Looks as if 'HE' were Singing words to the songs.

Of course

 

Stringy' weren't no bibulous dry drunk dream, his mouth was moving.

 

Luise King, Rey's wife,

and one of  America's

royal music families,

King sisters,

  In Bizarre ritual,   taboo --  musician's sexual fantasy  or

totemic   fetish.

 

Rey's wife 

Luise, stood backstage --

in her hand,

 a small plastic tube,

connecting her mouth, which grasped firmly the appurtenance between lipstick lips

and

bitten down securely  upper and lower  teeth.

 

 

Wife, Luis, Rey, Rey's magic-seeming Gibson Steel Guitar, connected to his Gibson amplifier, truly producing the guitar sounds the audience heard, but with the addition of magical misdirection, requiring just a little suspension of disbelief, Rey's astonishing gliss bliss, smooth as glass and shrill as Minnie Pearl, doubled, if you will, not by a hidden guitar behind the curtain (sometimes actually done, and done still to this day with some instruments), but the furtive Oz in up to her ears in gear, dressed to  her husband's strictly White Tie Tails signature, by now, imprimatur, marking an upper class, or required mode of presentation a Potentate whose job it was to be at the beck. and on call at all times of a visiting dignitary, or much more excitingly, a Royal Family member's daughter, sister, or niece with which it was his filial responsibility to squire Her Ladyship among the fragrant gardens and salons where he would jauntily offer a cigarette out of site of the King and his guest, around the first corner which offered privacy and a view of the land which lay before them like a dreamed vista of evanescence, fecund, and amorously intoxicated, where with boyish, somewhat dashing hesitation in his voice (more like, habituation), his  demeanor hardening at the prospect of the crime, he would produce his inscribed with tender words and crested gold Dunhill cigarette holder and produce a blue Dunhill filtered cigarette, while whispering to invite mutual subrogation,  infamy and mischief of a fourteen-year-old, but enough to gain trust, project naivete, and invite a shared secret en deux -- her lips reddened by a flush of longing and by the cold luxurious security the mechanism produced, a muffled lovemaking session from the guests above her suite (it was a rush holiday) at Le Cap de Monaco, where she had pleasured herself for the first time, to for the first time, hearing actual coitus from two people whose desire and passion was real and feral and existed even if it be a tryst or rendezvous, she gasped beneath the soft sheet, her nipples and the cool folds of silk sheets caressing her ass.,

She

found herself crying out, unexpectedly coming for the first time, and not  knowing what she had done to cause it.

But

she thought of it now, as  two days and tonight at this chateaux and grounds, now to her, all rooms for  passionate lovemaking and the beginning of a fabulous love affair which a sixteen-year-old Princess was bound to enjoy.  

 

The flash in her eyes registered enlarged pupils of sexual desire redoubling her effort to shrug all of it off  resulting in a paroxysm of coughing from her overdone first inhalation smoking, which we shall infer was not countable in months. 

She

did inhale all of  what she hungrily sucked into her mouth and into her delicate papillae, its tendrils on her lungs  shrinking away like her cat  from acrid but calming fog whose comfort she felt in her chest, then her head -- spurring her on to exhale lest she forget; but she had inhaled enough nicotine to render her capable of continuing to speak, expressing  great knowledge and rare experience whose commonality of Royalty one is never afforded. 

Admiring all new and beautiful things, and one newer still -- whose hand now brushed her silken bustle, producing a frisson privee du chambre, a sound of falling into her

Lit a la turque made for   Sovereign and brave Marie Antoinette, appointed as such for she whose utter  delight AND bon mots reserved for week's end.

How

disparaged her subjects with shame and contempt, some weeping, some yelling for the executioner's blade to fall.

If

here discernible, her carriage, fearless, impregnable of subjugation. 

Marie's

look could not have been invented by peasant -- overly florid if by poet,  its utterance, hooded,  as were its subjects, impetuous wretches, one child, absconding with her courtly slippers, and all as the thousands, unwashed mobs, brown, pruned winter leaves. 

Her green

 whimsical topiary she imagined and designed  herself, shielded among those  hoary from age, not condition, as was she, their din graciously cut short by her literal beheading disembodiment.

Its

head and neck, ridiculously cleaved cleanly asunder were eyes from foots, the two were of different location, apart, but faintly, there was he who did see the half-smile visible on lips  her deadhead reignite over her twitching fingers' Majesty.

And now, her

head lofted in air, grasped by its fallowed locks, white wig, but did not they know of her condition?  

A

grotesque Butcher Special held in victory as if to sell  first customer, served by masked executioner,   wind blowing cool  for as long, then flustered no more; no ghoulish festivities either to mark inside itinerary, unsteady from gin, but mostly occasion,  lustily witness all, whence  collective stomachs fell the same, no noble Queen -- refusal to quit Her Versailles until the end -- and then stragglers -- sighs winnowing in air,  departing her soul, final heir, Queen of France,  her beautiful, horrible, headless moor.

 

 

His

 

 

distinguishable formality suggested unremarkable distinction -- an avant garde pioneer of innovation -- au courant, unavailable in America (of course -- more now) existed.


Rey's Wife, through Rey's auxilliary amplifier speaker, forming words with her lips, breath, vibrations inside her mouth, and the vocalizing movement her throat muscles made naturally as she performed a sort of ventriloquism on a dummy which she couldn't see to the perfect pitch and timbre of a shrill stertorous stringed gliding tumble of notes together except for her husbands sure hand.

 

Rey would make her make 'IT' say his name as he glided the steel bar along the strings.

 

his steel guitar playing perfectly, it obedient like a great dog on spindly legs shining of Astor and tiger maple like tortoise which surrounded the nut sumptuously proclaiming something exotic but palatable was on the menu at this another supper club.  dressed in perfect

tuxedo.

 

With device, Rey and Luise  created eerie vocals  in human-seeming, or doll-made four- or five-part harmonies -- 

 

more ghost note overtone, a pleasant warble two  floating notes, human and Guitar, vying for pitch, linting either too early, too late, or exact.

And

mysteriously, all of it seemed to him too, from his steel, or puppet,  and sometimes he almost thought it stringy, and sometimes stringy thought it too.

 

 

The 1972 double album Something/Anything? is Todd Rundgren's third and most successful album as a solo artist.

Though heavily influenced by the Singer-Songwriter movement - Laura Nyro in particular - different songs range into psychedelia, Motown Soul, Power Pop, early Synth-Pop, and even opera. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Something/Anything? sessions involved copious Ritalin use by the singer. Rundgren played every instrument on the first three sides, but after an earthquake struck his Los Angeles studio, Rundgren set up live sessions in New York City and at his upstate Bearsville studio to complete the final side with a rotating series of session players chosen for him by keyboardist Moogy Klingman.

The commercial and critical success of Something/Anything? was something of a double-edged sword for Rundgren, who set out immediately to avoid being pigeonholed as a Singer-Songwriter on the followup A Wizard, A True Star, aiming away from the pop mainstream towards cult status. Paradoxically, this ensured that Something/Anything? would remain his best-known release. The album was listed at #173 in Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time and spawned the major hit singles "I Saw the Light" and "Hello It's Me". "Couldn't I Just Tell You" subsequently became a Power Pop classic that served as a major influence on subsequent works in the genre.

Track listing

Side One: "A Bouquet of Ear-Catching Melodies"


Side Four: "Baby Needs a New Pair of Snakeskin Boots (A Pop Operetta)"

  1. "Overture–My Roots: Money (That's What I Want)/Messin' with the Kid"
  2. "Dust in the Wind"
  3. "Piss Aaron"
  4. "Hello It's Me"
  5. "Some Folks Is Even Whiter Than Me"
  6. "You Left Me Sore"
  7. "Slut"

Before we go any further, I'd like to show you a tropes list I made up, and one can be made for any album, even this one: