What a couple of weeks it has been, Gentle Reader(s), since the last DJ Inky playlist. In Santa Fe and in cities and towns all over the world the people—and I mean EVERY kind of people we got—have taken to the streets and they continue to do so on a daily basis, keeping the momentum going and the outrage over the killing of George Floyd alive. There has been a lot of speculation in the press regarding the extraordinary energy of this movement, about what has made the response to this tragedy different from the many that have preceded it. It's hard to know with certainty, but my take is that we have arrived at a crossroads of a sort, precipitated by a unique combination of circumstances. The pressure built up from months of coronavirus quarantine (and the Orange Goblin's disastrously bungled response to the pandemic), the heightened political environment of a momentously significant election year, the cumulative rage from yet another brutal video of a black man dying senselessly on the street, and the Orange Goblin administration's relentless assault on democracy and decency have all come together at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, enough is finally enough.

Gentle Reader(s), I greet you once again from Lockdown atop Chango Hill in La Ciudad Real de la Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asis. Greetings & peace.   It's a bit hard to comprehend the degree to which an already fraught and anxious situation has become exponentially more so over the course of just one week. The murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis has once again pushed the inequities and violence of America against people of color to the forefront of the national conversation (if there actually is anything resembling a 'national conversation' these days) and protestors have once again taken to the streets to exercise their civic right—their civic duty—to stand up and speak out. In the unprecedented context of a global pandemic, months of quarantine, a starkly divided country, and an election year the murder of yet another unarmed black man in plain view of the world might just prove to be the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. The murder of George Floyd comes hard on the heels of the revelations regarding the vigilante murder of Ahmaud Arbrey in Brunswick, Georgia, back in February and it seems that across the country, and across the world, people in ever greater numbers are turning out to make it clear that enough is enough is enough. Again.

Welcome back, Gentle Reader(s), to your fave rave online resource for... for whatever it is we offer to you here. Like arty stuff and such like. But let's forget about the arty farty stuff for a moment and get down to brass tacks: We remain in the throes of Lockdown and enforced solitude is quite likely beginning to weigh a bit heavily upon many of us. While I don't have any ready solutions to offer for our current state of Heavy Manners I can extend to you DJ Inky's Social Distance Dance Party, Part the Deux—tried and trusted toons from the expansive dancefloor of Ye Olde Matador Bar & Lounge. With any luck it might provide a bit of welcome distraction from the myriad woes and worries of the day. I find getting up and moving about to be an essential tonic—it can do nothing but good for you & yours as well, just don't trip over the pets or the furniture or your fellow inmates.

Welcome, Gentle Reader(s), to DJ Inky's exclusive Shelter In Place playlist. Your Humble Narrator has been ruminating over this selection for several days now, adding and subtracting, refining the vibe as it were, for optimal effect. And what effect might that be, you might ask. Well you might. The effect that I'm aiming for is somewhat multifaceted, encompassing acknowledgement of the unprecedented parameters of the current situation, the sober realities of isolation, expressions of the desire for human connection, and hope for the future.

This is it, Gentle Reader(s)—the last full DJ Inky set list to see the light of day (figuratively speaking) before the Lockdown took effect. There was an abbreviated set on the evening of March 12, but with scant attendance and concerns of pandemonia hovering ominously about the town, Your Humble Narrator decided to let discretion be the better part of valor and repair back home to the Inky Aerie shortly after the stroke of midnight. Amongst the sparse attendees on 3/12 were three short, boisterous women, one of whom was insistent in loudly proclaiming to all and sundry ‘We’re from Texas! We’re from TEXAS!!!’ My response was, ‘Do I come to you with my problems?’

You'd think it would be, wouldn't you? Enough, that is? Well, hardly. Banish the thought. I owe you PLAYLISTS, Gentle Reader(s)! I know you've been thirsting for them, dreaming of them, lusting after them! Well, so have I. I made my triumphant (if scarcely noted) return to the Ye Olde Matador Bar & Lounge just shy of a year ago, unsure of whether or not I still had the stuffe required to reclaim and retain my prior position of glory in the deluxe DJ booth. Well, I did, or so it seems. No one has complained, or perhaps they just haven't gotten around to it yet. After 12 years of service I still love Ye Olde Matador and I love bringing a bit of musical enjoyment into the lives of our esteemed clientele. It's been good to be back and, with a bit of luck, I'll stick around for a while longer.   So there!  

In late 1969 the Rolling Stones were touring the United States for the first time in three years, having suffered through a variety of legal hassles and harassment at home and the departure and subsequent death of the group’s onetime leader and guitarist, Brian Jones (replaced by the young virtuoso Mick Taylor). A lot had changed a lot since 1964 and the T.A.M.I. Show and Mick’s lack of formal neckwear didn’t seem quite as scandalous. The band had decided it was time to bust a cinematic move and they hired the Maysles Brothers—Albert and David—and Charlotte Zwerin, to film and direct a document of the tour in which the Stones presented their bonafides as ‘the Greatest Rock n’ Roll Band in the World.’   By the time ‘Gimme Shelter’ was released in December, 1970, everybody knew perfectly well what had transpired at the tour-ending free concert in Altamont, California. The film starts setting up the horror from the very beginning with scenes of Jagger and Charlie Watts in an editing suite looking at film clips and listening to recordings of radio broadcasts from just after the concert. Sonny Barger of the San Francisco Hell’s Angels, calling into a radio show, deflects all the blame for the Altamont disaster onto drugged up hippies and the Stones. Mick looks perplexed, Charlie mutters ‘What a shame.’ A shame it was indeed and ‘Gimme Shelter’ looks it directly in the face, recording everything with a disconcertingly unflinching eye. The movie ricochets from one locale to another, jumping to Mick and Charlie back in England on a photo shoot for the cover of ‘Get Your YaYa’s Out.’ Next, the Stones are bopping around in an Alabama motel room (with journalist Stanley Booth), hanging out backstage at Madison Square Garden, crammed into a small control room at Muscle Shoals Sound listening to mixes for ‘Sticky Fingers.’ Everyone looks zoned out. Charlie gets into a staring contest with the camera. The scene bounces from riveting stage footage at Madison Square Garden to lawyer Melvin Belli’s office in San Francisco as he negotiates to find a last-second venue for the free concert. The energy and momentum build and for a few moments the mood seems somewhat upbeat.