#Berkshires inns

[yourfrankiethings]

Inn at Kenmore Hall, Richmond, MA., June 2024

front – 1385 State Road, Richmond, MA 01254 The Inn at Kenmore Hall is a luxurious inn dating from 1792 in the wonderful landscape of the Berkshire Hills.  Lovingly restored by owners Frank Muytjens and Scott Edward Cole it is a fabulous place to stay in this area filled with pieces of history.  Normally this is a blog for restaurants but I include this inn as with your stay you get to enjoy a…

[amongemeraldclouds]

first love | lorenzo berkshire | 561 words | flufftober masterlist

The air is fresh with the sweet blossom of flowers and the sun illuminates everything with its golden glow. You're six and running around the garden, hair flying in the wind.

You pause when a boy comes over to ask if he can play with you. You remember him as Lorenzo. His family, the Berkshires, just moved in the mansion next door. You ask if he wants to play on the swings and he nods with a toothy grin and bright eyes.

Next thing, you're laughing as the wind rushes past you, lifting you higher. Closer and closer to the sun. He joins in the laughter, not sure what's funnier: how easy it is to be your friend or how happy he feels to be beside you.

He indulges in your pretend tea parties, clinking glasses with stuffed animals. In turn, you play pirates with him and conquer kingdoms together.

Afternoon games soon turn to sleepovers when his or your parents travel abroad for business. You tell each other scary stories in the dark, trying to one up each other, only to both cuddle and hold on tightly to each other through the night.

Blink and soon stuffed toys are replaced by magazines, plastic swords replaced by quidditch brooms. Time has a funny way of slipping by.

One Tuesday afternoon, you smile at him after quidditch practice and notice his muscles for the first time, sweat glistening beneath the glaring sun. Where was the scrawny boy you played tag with? You could have sworn it was just yesterday. And when he smiles back at you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, heat creeping into your cheeks.

Ridiculous, that's what this is. He's your Lorenzo, tea aficionado and slayer of dragons. Not whatever funny feeling crept in your stomach. For all you know, it could just be indigestion. That's right, you can always blame it on the scones.

Except when he brushes off an orange leaf that fell on your head, it's hard to ignore the delicious spark from where he touched you. You almost forget how to breathe, but by some miracle, you bring yourself back to the present moment. Because what if you're the only one going through it? An icy chill buries itself in your chest.

Little do you know, he has noticed you too. The adorable sound of your laughter, the addictive smell of your shampoo, and how much he wanted to hear about your day. Every detail found a home in him that still left him wanting more.

It's agony, holding himself back. He'd settle for small excuses to touch you - a wayward leaf in your hair, an accidental brush of the arm when you walked side by side, hugging you to celebrate your wins.

You'll find out soon enough. You'll both travel to the countryside one weekend, eager for a break from all the books and To Do lists. The heavy downpour will get in the way of your return trip. With no choice, you'll have to book a room at an inn.

Of course they're fully booked, except for one room. One room with only one bed. It's no big deal right? You've had countless of sleepovers after all. But right there, on one bed, are two souls and three words. That's all it will take to confirm what you both hope for, what was always inevitable.

[gaytravelinfo]

The White Hart – Salisbury, CT

The White Hart | 15 Undermountain Road | Salisbury, CT 06068 | 860-435-0030 The White Hart, nestled in the foothills of the Berkshires in picturesque Salisbury, Connecticut, draws its name from its counterpart in Salisbury, England. Built in 1806, the inn had humble beginnings as a small tavern with only a few rooms. Some of the charming features of this original building can still be seen in…

[jodilinbio]

In late August, Dotty, a couple of people from DSS, and I all piled into a van together. Dotty told me we were going to get carpet for my so-called new rooms in the new house we were supposed to move into. Being the naïve, gullible little idiot I sometimes was back then, I believed her, even though we were on the road for nearly an hour. Why couldn’t I have put two and two together and realized that we not only shouldn’t have had to travel that far for carpet, but also, why would a couple of strangers accompany us on the endeavor? Maybe I just didn’t want to accept that I was being bullshitted. No one wants to believe they’re about to be tricked into being placed in the worst place yet—and for two whole years! It was absolutely horrible. If I thought Brattleboro was bad, I hadn’t seen anything yet! Valleyhead, a residential school for girls run like a reformatory, was truly hell on earth. Nestled in the heart of the Berkshire Mountains in Lenox, Massachusetts, Valleyhead was anything but fun.

Valleyhead was situated on a series of hills with forests around them. At the very top of the twelve-acre property lived the owners, an older couple. Their sons and daughter worked there. Off to one side of their house was a small field where games like soccer and baseball were played. Down below in a large clearing was the main house, a huge mansion that used to be an inn. There were sixteen rooms upstairs, most of which had two sets of bunk beds and housed four girls.

Fortunately, I got along with my roommates, and although one girl could get a little scary at times, I never had any major problems with the other students—nothing more than you would expect from sixty teenage girls all living in the same house.

The top floor of the main house was where the special education and accounting classes were held. The Carriage House, about three hundred feet from the main house, was where the rest of the standard subjects were taught. It was a small, one-story building with only about six rooms.

Between the Carriage House and the main house was a smaller, newer two-story building. The troublemakers were downstairs, the slow kids were on the upper right side, and those doing exceptionally well were on the upper left side. I would eventually earn a spot (and a little more privacy and independence) on the upper left side once I realized that the only way to survive the place was to basically kiss ass.

Down another steep hill, just below the main house, was a pool.

At Valleyhead, you lived on a point system. There were four different levels, and the most you could get for an allowance was the amount of your level. Most people were on level two. In the end, I’d be one of the very few to make it up to level four. You weren’t allowed money from family or friends, and after you returned from a visit with your family—if you had one to go to—you were only allowed to return with one measly dollar. Even back in 1982, a buck or two wasn’t much!

“I’m not going to support your smoking habits,” the owner said one day.

“But why couldn’t our families be allowed to?” I asked.

“Because that wouldn’t be fair,” she’d say.

But life isn’t fair, and nothing’s the same for everyone in the real world. As far as I was concerned, not allowing our families to give us whatever money they wanted was just another means of power and control.

I often wished I didn’t smoke, but I did at the time, and I wasn’t nearly ready to quit. The most you could get back then with a couple of bucks was four packs of smokes for the week if you could find a buy-one-get-one-free deal.

It seemed that all I had to enjoy at Valleyhead were my stereo and guitar. I even composed a song with another student there that turned out beautifully. I still remember it to this day and have a copy of the lyrics.

I ended up closest to Denise, whom I often roomed with, along with Ethel and a Black girl named Stacy.

We were a strange bunch in the eyes of Donna, the school’s worst nightmare in the staff department (especially if she disliked you) and the only one we called by her first name.

At Valleyhead, it was lights out at 11:00 PM, and no one was to get out of bed unless it was to go to the bathroom. One night, we were pretty restless and unable to sleep, so all of us, except for Ethel, decided to do our own thing. Stacy was pacing around, mumbling about who knows what; Denise was fishing for something in the closet; and I was about to sit down on the floor and listen to music. Only, in the dark, I misjudged where my stereo was and ended up in the middle of the room.

The door suddenly flung open, and the lights came on.

We froze.

Donna glanced from Stacy to me and then to Denise. “What are you doing in the closet?!” she screamed at Denise. Then she looked at me. “And what are you doing in the middle of the floor?!” Finally, she looked at Stacy. “Come on, you bunch of weirdos! Downstairs! Now!!!”

We scurried out of the room.

“Somebody’s feet stink like shit!” Donna added on the way down.

Once downstairs, Donna had us all sit in separate rooms for a while. I guess she thought that sitting there and staring at the walls would make us bored enough to sleep.

“Weirdos!” we heard her tell another staff member. “One in the closet, one pacing the room, one in the middle of the floor…”

With the exception of that night, I had no problems sleeping at Valleyhead. That was easy to do when you were a walking pharmacy.

When I first arrived at Valleyhead, I had no problems with Donna. She seemed to like me well enough and often complimented my singing and guitar playing, even if I don’t remember myself being very good back in those young and untrained days. Jumping out of a second-story window would change all that. But even before that, not even cutting myself during a visit home changed much. This happened during the winter, so I was wearing long sleeves at the time and was able to keep it hidden. Or so I thought.

Once I returned to Valleyhead by bus after the visit, I called to assure my mother I’d made it back in one piece. Without thinking, I raised my arm at some point and ran it through my long hair. My sleeve slipped up and another student saw the cuts and asked if I had done it upstairs.

“No, I did it at home,” I told her.

“Did what at home?” Mom asked.

Although I told her it was nothing, she called back, dialing the office number instead of the student pay phone, and asked that I be checked. I don’t remember what sort of action or punishment occurred because of it, but I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.

[presentpostview]

Places to visit in Massachusetts winter

Massachusetts Winter Wonders

For Outdoor Enthusiasts:

Ski or Snowboard: Berkshire Mountains offer slopes for all levels.

Winter Hiking: Explore the Berkshires or Cape Cod National Seashore.

Ice Skating: Enjoy the iconic Frog Pond in Boston Common.

Snowshoeing: Discover peaceful winter landscapes.

For Cozy Indoor Fun:

Boston: Explore museums, historic sites, and enjoy a warm bowl of clam chowder.

Salem: Immerse yourself in witchy history and cozy cafes.

Berkshires: Experience charming towns, art galleries, and live theater.

Cape Cod: Relax by the fireplace in a cozy inn.

Unique Experiences:

Dog Sledding: Adventure through snowy landscapes.

Winter Festivals: Celebrate the season with local events.

Cozy Inns: Indulge in warm hospitality and delicious food.

Remember to pack warm clothes and embrace the winter magic readmore.

[mswbookclubtags]

Season: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall

Holiday: Christmas, Fourth of July, Halloween, New Year's Eve, St. Patrick’s Day, Thanksgiving

Weather: Blizzard, Cold, Hot, Rain, Snow, Sunny, Tornado, Windy

Setting/Lodging: Airplane, Boat/Ship, Bungalow, Cabin, Cabot Cove, Castle, Courtroom, Cozy, Hill House, Hospital, Hotel, Houseguest, Inn, Mansion, Train, Woods

Location: Alaska, Arizona, Berkshires/Massachusetts, Bermuda, Boston, British Columbia, California, Canada, Colorado, Florida, France, Georgetown University Hospital, Gloucestershire (South West England), Hamptons/Long Island, Hawaii, Indiana, Ireland, Italy, Las Vegas, London, Mexico, Nashville/Tennessee, New Orleans, New York City, Queens/New York, Rockaway Beach, Russia, San Francisco, Savanna/Georgia, Scotland, Silver Spring/Maryland, Columbia/South Carolina, St. Thomas (U.S. Virgin Islands), Tampa/Florida, Washington (State), Washington D.C.

Guest stars: The Gang, Lane Barfield, Vaughan/Olga Buckley, Donna Fletcher, Frank Fletcher, Frank Fletcher (Grady’s son), Grady Fletcher, Artie Gelber, Michael Haggerty, Harry McGraw, Evelyn Phillips, Charlene Sassi, Archibald Semple, Mayor Jim Shevlin, Susan Shevlin, Eve Simpson, Dennis Stanton, George Sutherland, Amos Tupper

Continue on to the TOPICS tags or return to the Murder, She Wrote Book Club web site!

[greatevent89]

Yankee Inn Lenox MA

Located on 461 Pittsfield Rd, Lenox, MA, The Yankee Inn is your perfect getaway in the heart of the Berkshire Mountains. We are a 2.5-star property offering a range of amenities for a comfortable and memorable stay.

Our rooms are designed to offer you the pinnacle of comfort and luxury. Each room features free WiFi, iron/ironing board, and rollaway beds. Our deluxe rooms come with a fireplace, jetted tub, and free toiletries.

[qprgary]

A MEAL BACK IN TIME

THE BULL INN BISHAM, BERKSHIRE £184.00 per couple incl glass of wine and bottle of Gevery Chambertin. Well this was weird like stepping back 40 years into the past made interesting by the fact that we had no idea of what we were walking into. The village of Bisham is old and started life as a preceptory which is like a monastery for the Knights Templar or the medieval catholic equivalent of…

[swforester]

The Berkshires. On my recent trip here we stayed at the historic Red Lion Inn which was founded way back in 1773! This is an awesome place to stay, located at the heart of Stockbridge MA. There are so many things to see and do in this area including a visit to Albany Rural Cemetery which was amazing to say the least.

12/14/21

[robertsmithsonlibraryandbookclub]

Untitled Project: Robert Smithson Library & Book Club [The Berkshire Traveller, Country Inns and Back Roads, 1971] Oil paint on carved wood, 2018

[yourfrankiethings]

The Old Inn On The Green, New Marlborough, MA., 6/1/24

building – 134 Hartsville-New Marlboro Road, New Marlborough, MA 01230 The Old Inn On The Green was built in 1760 as a stagecoach/mail stop and now offers a fine dining restaurant by candle light and authentically restored guest rooms.   There is also al fresco dining on the canopied garden terrace off the taproom.  Chef/Owner Peter Platt is partnered with Meredith Kennard to bring the diner the…

[gaytravelinfo]

The Porches Inn at Mass MoCA - North Adams, MA

The Porches Inn at Mass MoCA – North Adams, MA

The Porches Inn at Mass MoCA | 231 River Street | North Adams, MA 01247 The Porches Inn at MASS MoCA is a boutique inn located in the historic community of North Adams, MA. With an expansive view of The Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (MASS MoCA) from its porches, this row of beautifully detailed 19th Century Victorian row houses pays homage to generations of mill worker families who…

[letmewanderinyourgarden2022]

CHAPTER LIST - LET ME WANDER IN YOUR GARDEN

Started: 11/4/2022

Last Updated: 11/2/2023

General Info

PROLOGUE?? - September - Sometime in the earlyish 2000s

Chapter One - Bird On The Wing Atlanta, GA, US July 1 year earlier

Chapter Two - We Can Watch The White Doves Go Tower House Two Months Later - September

Chapter Three - Will You Heed The Master's Call? Tower House 3 months later - December - earlyish 2000s

Chapter Four - Through the Night on Silver Wings Eventually - London, England - Kensington - about 9 months later - September - earlyish 2000s

Chapter Five - Many Dreams Come True and Some Have Silver Linings London, England and Sonning-On-Thames - September - earlyish 2000's - the morning after Jane's arrival

Chapter Six - And The Seeds Of Love I'll Sow The Bull Inn, Sonning-On-Thames, Berkshire - September - earlyish 2000's - the Hidden Garden conversation continues

Chapter Seven - See A Vision Forming And It Comes As No Surprise The Bull Inn, Sonning-On-Thames, Berkshire - September - earlyish 2000's - the Hidden Garden lunch

Chapter Eight - Never Bargained For You Sonning-On-Thames, Berkshire - September - earlyish 2000's - the Thames Walk

Chapter Nine - On The Wings of Maybe Sonning-On-Thames, Berkshire - September - earlyish 2000's - The Bull Inn/Deanery Gardens

Chapter Ten - Part One - It's To A Castle I Will Take You, Where What's To Be, They Say Will Be Sonning-On-Thames, Berkshire - September - earlyish 2000's - St. Andrews and environs

Chapter Ten - Part Two - It's To A Castle I Will Take You, Where What's To Be, They Say Will Be Sonning-On-Thames, Berkshire-September - earlyish 2000's - Deanery Gardens/The Great House at Sonning

Chapter Eleven - It's Been A Long Time Since I Rock and Rolled

Chapter Twelve - You Will Be Mine By Taking Our Time

PLAYLISTS

Chapter Eleven - It's Been A Long Time Since I Rock and Rolled - Dinner

[high-ashell-hargrove]

Lost- Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Ptsd, bad old writing per usual?

Description: after returning from the dead, Y/n deals with her memories of Pergatory and Dean is there to attempt to help her through it all

A/n: so i wrote this like a year ago, and kinda hate it but ngl i wanted to post it lolol

like 1.5k words

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--

The smell of musty books and beer wafted through the air, along with the new addition of mint and lavender shampoo. It had been over a year since y/n felt soft fabric touch her skin and warm water engulfed her fragile body. She had made her journey from where she had been buried back to Bobbys. Guilt and fear coursed through her veins. Will they be happy to see me? These thoughts raced through her mind as she stared at the off white door. After a while she ambled up the steps, taking a deep breath she knocked on the door. The door opened slowly and she was met with the eldest Winchester, A small gasp left his mouth. He splashed her with holy water. "It's really me Dean." Y/n croaked, her mouth was tremendously dry. A smile plastered across his face as he pulled her in for a hug. "God I missed you" y/n whispered. She absolutely missed the smell of the cologne that seeped from the man’s clothing. "I missed you more." He said fighting back tears, which didn't work much because tears spilled over his face. Pulling back he wrapped his arm around her torso and guided her inside.

"Who was it?" I heard the youngest Winchester call out from the kitchen area. "It's y/n," Dean called back. Silence filled the house. Two sets of footsteps sounded toward the two. There stood in front of you in the tiny mudroom, was Sam and Bobby. “Hey guys,” she said, her voice was brittle, her eyes once full of life and hope now looked dark and empty. The men just stood there, shocked at the small frame standing in front of them. Her face covered in matted blood and dirt, her nails busted, clothing torn and soiled. Sam slowly approached her and brought her in for a hug. He couldn't help but notice her grip, usually strong was now a weak squeeze.

Stepping back he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Did the Cass bring you back?” he asked.

“Hell if I kno’.” a light chuckle left her throat.

She looked at each of the men again, reaching up at Sam as she fiddles with his hair.

“How long has it been? I swear your hair has grown like, four inches in what? Five months?” she chucked again, pulling away from the Winchester. The men looked at her, sad expressions across each face.

“y/n,” Dean said, placing a strong hand on her shoulder, slowly he walked into the living room with her and sat on the couch. “It's been a year and nine months.” His voice is thick. She looked from Sam to Bobby searching for answers. She sucked in a deep breath.

“O-oh, well then I h-haven't had a shower in over a year,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. 

Slowly standing up again she ripped her hands from Deans, “if you'll excuse me.” she said making her way to the staircase. “Damnit,” Dean whispered, rubbing his face.

[Oof)

After cleaning up y/n made her way downstairs again, in the boy's clothing now because hers had been ruined, Sam waited at the bottom of the staircase. *pov change hahahah*

"Though you might need this." He chuckled holding out a beer. I take it and take a sip, wincing at the feeling. Walking into the kitchen I was met with a table filled with food. 

"We uh, though you would be hungry too," Dean said, clasping his hands together. Forcing a smile I sat down, the boys followed. Looking down I began fiddling with my fingers, Dean leaned over and patted my leg. I let out a whimper and grip my thigh. 

"You- you still have injuries don't you," Dean asked with concern dripping in his voice. 

I nodded. Looking up again I see the boys staring at me. 

"Don't want the food to go to waste." I sigh, grabbing the pie.

It had been months of y/n trying to get back into hunting with the boys, Adjusting had become much harder than she thought. Every little thing set her off in some way. Y/n had mostly stuck behind and helped Bobby with research "Berkshire county PA, big Vamp nest according to Rufus." Y/n said, sitting down on her phone.

"The boys are gonna need you on this one," Bobby said sitting back in his chair.

Her eyes widened. Once again It was like she hadn't done this, ever.

"No. They don't need me, together they are enough." Y/n says, her hands trembling.

The sound of the impala rumbled through the air, looking over towards the door she heard the engine come to a stop and the heavy doors shutting. Eventually, she was met by the two men standing in the door frame of bobby’s ‘living room’.

“Hey boys,” Bobby said as he got up to give them hugs. Not soon after they embraced me with strong arms, almost suffocating actually. We sat for about an hour talking out the new case, each time mentioning me joining them on the hunt Dean would look at me with worry, not once did I meet his gaze. We finally agreed, well Bobby and Sam agreed I would be joining them. Packing some things I say my goodbyes to Bobby and find myself staring out baby's windows. A few hours felt like long agonizing months. Fear sat at the pit of my stomach.  Eventually, we make it to a dinky little motel called “Comfort inn”.

Slinging down his bags Dean huffed “Comfort inn my ass.”

Chuckling Sam and I follow in suit.

“I’m takin’ the couch.”

“Cute but no.” I heard Dean reply. Turning around sent him a questioning look. 

I scoff. “And why the hell, not Mr. Winchester.”

“Because I heard all about the tango you had with some demons about a week ago,” he replies and points toward my side. Rolling my eyes and throwing my bag onto the couch.

“So sweet for keeping tabs on me, but no.” 

A few nights later and some more dead bodies we all had found the vamps nest. It was in a big barn in the middle of, you guessed it, nowhere. We got our things and headed there. I have to admit I wasn't afraid of working the ‘suit’ part of the job, but killing vamps I was definitely scared shitless thinking about. We were About ten minutes away from busting in their machetes wielding. 

We stood outside of the doors, my heart thumping uncontrollably. Sliding open the door we all quietly entered, vamps asleep right at our feet. One by one we silently killed them. As we approached the far left corner of the barn, cries for help emerged. Next thing I see, vamps swarming us. Separating us. I focused on the task at hand. my blade flying through them, without seconds to spare. Next thing I know I'm met with the boys again, staring at me like I'm crazy. Blood covered my hand, neck, face, and clothes. It was like I blacked out. Startled, I stumbled back out to the car. The ride back no words were exchanged, we simply cleaned up when we got back to the motel and hit the hay.

Whispers filled her head. The smell of rotting flesh wafted through her nose, and the sounds of twigs and dirt crunched beneath her boots.

A light gasp left y/n throat. Quickly looking around she noticed she was indeed in the motel and not in purgatory. Quietly y/n walked into the bathroom. Shutting the door she turned to look in the mirror.  She was back, it had been so long since she had let her emotions get to her. Now blood soaked her shirt and covered her once clean skin. taking a deep breath y/n looked into the motel mirror again, images of purgatory flashed through her once more. sobs left her throat and her vision began to blur with tears. a light knock brought her back. 

"You okay in there y/n/n?" Dean called from the opposite side. y/n could not bring herself to reply, only more muffled cries. He opened the door and immediately was at her side, whispering comforting words to her while stroking her hair.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” 

She tightens her grip on his arms, and suddenly she begins. “That-that place, it broke me in more ways than one.” she squeaked. Taking a few more breaths she started again. “I was suffocating Dean, I- I felt myself losing what humanity I had left. And the worse thing was when I screamed… my head felt like it was constantly being shoved underwater. I lost hope… I still feel lost.”He didn't know what to say, he had been there…. But he just couldn't seem to muster up any words, he just held her tighter.

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Wes Buckley

Wes Buckley is a cosmic folk songwriter from Western Massachusetts, whose homespun, all-natural music spins off into unexpected revelations, epiphanies and absurdities. He recorded a split with Michael Hurley in 2014 and has released some home-made CDs, but The Towering Ground on Belltower Records is his first official full-length. Jennifer Kelly reviewed it for Dusted last month, observing that “The mystic and the mundane jostle elbows, line to line, verse to verse.” Here he lists some of his favorite drumless music.

If they ever outlaw drums — revolt! But while you’re getting organized you could still listen to most of these…

Mike Cooper — “Knew Strings”

This tune and record continue my endless quest to hear something I can’t quite put my finger on. It started I think with this deliberate exploration of drumless jazz trios while I was painting an entire inn. Led me to ’80s Chet Baker with Phillip Catherine and Jean-Louise Rassinfosse. This sorta led to drumless duos which I will get into more of, both drumless duos, trios, and then solo artists. I like drums but I was questing.

Jimmy Giuffre, Paul Bley, Steve Swallow — “Sensing”

I don’t think I should go much further into the drumless schtick without mentioning Jimmy Giuffre. His Saturday and Sunday records with Steve Swallow and Paul Bley are magical. Yes, I love Free Fall. But another endless quest is the music of older people. Not necessarily ones that came back and reformed the band but ones that have been polishing the glass for many decades without a care in the world as to who is paying attention. Single minded types. There’s real magic in those records. This is some late era JG. So, Jimmy was part of the Music Inn lore here in the Berkshires in the ’60s. All the legends came up from New York and played but Jimmy went a step further and moved here. Passed away right here in Pittsfield and that’s why I have it mind to bring more light to his work locally. We need a Jimmy Giuffre Day and music festival at least. Disgraceful it doesn’t yet exist if you ask me.

Cecil Taylor — “Indent: First Layer”

Indent by Cecil Taylor. I keep returning to this record with big headphones lying in bed going places. It feels so important to me but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it to anyone before.

Bill Orcutt — “Odds Against Tomorrow”

Someone else who I would imagine feels the same… Bill’s latest is gorgeous. Bought it in LP form at my local shop so it’s a part of my LP listening which is sort of a different station in the house. Right in the dining/living room zone which usually means being aware of other people when I put on music and I’ve noticed this is a Sunday record. This falls under the list of drumless solo recordings.

Anthony Braxton and Eugene Chadbourne — Duo (Improv) 2017

Duo (Improv) 2017 by Anthony Braxton Eugene Chadbourne

I must say the pinnacle of the drumless duos so far on my path is the 8 hour box from 2017 by Anthony Braxton and Eugene Chadbourne. In the booklet there is an hourglass between them in the studio. Consequently, I noticed that each piece (8 of ’em) are an hour long. I don’t know. Something about that seems so intense to me. We’re going to improvise together for eight hours using an hourglass to guide the pieces and when the last grain falls…

Okkyung Lee — “The Crow Flew After Yi Sang”

I make some of my own instruments with piezo pickups I’ve soldered and they are, barring the cigar box guitars, basically electric percussion sculptures. The series started with circular wooden platters and the first one was called The Pizza. The second one was all painted red and called The Borscht. I use lots of pedals and compose with them via cut up. I could imagine a Okkyung Lee collab with that stuff going pretty well. This cello sounds like someone sawing their own throat with a piano string, it’s truly gorgeous.

Doc and Merle Watson — “Summertime”

Yeah, I listen to music with vocals too. Here’s one of my old fav’s. I recall learning all of the songs on Elementary (poorly) through the years and am still looking for my partner in crime to start a duo that does this kind of stuff at apple picking days at the orchard and such.

Mississippi Fred McDowell — “Jesus Is On The Mainline”

This is a whole live record of Fred on electric guitar with bass and it’s a source of great power in my opinion. It journeys without fear, is fully aware of itself, and as a recording captures the exacting and indivisible nature of earth and wind. And technically speaking, if you're like me and need a slide guru look no further.

Jonathan Richman — “Wait! Wait!”

I wouldn’t want to finish the list without breaking the rule a couple times! One of my favorite duos — Tommy and Jonathan! Ishkode Ishkode and Jonathan’s other latest records on Blue Arrow is a joyful place that I return to without fail. His new one, SA, we have at the vinyl station too though it’s more a making dinner and singing along record. Two things I must do daily.

Billie Holiday — “The Same Old Story (Take 1)”

You might have heard of Billie Holiday. She shouldn’t be left out of any list. This is the one for me. The band, the intro, the piano solo, the swing, the session, the lyric, the delivery. I listen to this over and over and over. When the horns come back in on story and the whole groove locks in I’m in ecstasy, but it’s new to me.