Thanks for visiting Robert K. Wolf, Nashville Singer/Songwriter

JANUARY 1, 2007 -- 2 Double Oh Seven, BatMan. Bright shining new year for all of us, some of us, any of us. Will anything be different this year? It would be difficult to say. It would be difficult to know!

The winter has been entirely too warm. Is catastrophe near? What do the doomsday sayers say? I remain suspicious of the bringers of the Armageddon stories, the absolutes. But what do I know? I know that Two Double Oh Seven brings new promise, or at least that's what I'll believe for now. New promise for friends, friends with challenges of all kinds. And we collectively have much to accomplish. We will get there.

The new album, Drivin' You Away, has arrived. I could not be more pleased with the outcome. This is a terrific album and I hope you'll get a chance to check it out. You've probably seen the home page if you're here, there's a new Flash player front and center. This playlist will be updated frequently with demos, new song segments, and perhaps some instrumentals and such.

May this new year for you be all you want it to be.

Peace and Love to All.

NOVEMBER 15, 2006 -- Wow. Since I last blogged, 18 billion users joined myspace. Youtube, myspace, lord knows what else. Welcome to Web 2.0. Social networking. Up close and personal.

It's been quite an exciting time here in Nashville. Drivin' You Away recording is completed. Graphics are just about finished, and we should be going to DiscMakers very soon with the recipe, then they'll spit out a thousand or so of those suckers. It's been a good long time between albums. I'm quite excited about this project. The Nashville route was taken here, 10 tracks recorded in one day. It was a phenomenal experience, and this product is one of which I am very proud. Can't wait to have it in my hands, and shucks, I hope yours too!

The artist of the week for me is Josh Ritter. Picked up a couple of his albums, and what I've heard so far is mesmerizing. There are times when artists, their instruments, even the room is singing and participating in an invocation. The best songwriting and performing exudes that. Ritter's got it down. Scary good....

SUNDAY, MARCH 26, 2006 -- Ain't it funny that we're all here. Like shoes. Bitter, nonchalant attitudes prevail. Why? Ask them. Ask them and they will tell you that the problem with all of us, the knee-deep rooted problem, is that nature became extinct. The thumbing, quarantined funnycars could not retrieve themselves sufficiently, thereby nullifying the truth. I couldn't believe it when they told me.

Titles come and go, melodies come and go, and what sticks? I send this humble request to the muse--help me write some more songs!!! Please?

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2005 -- Could it possibly be that I am wearily truncated? Assimilated by the spoon-fed neophytes of doom? Perhaps the fairies know. Shit, they know everything. They know what time the candles eat shoepolish. They know how bulls plunder aspirin cabinets. These miracles do abound.

I blog humbled.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2005 -- It's too late to say anything meaningful, anything musical, anything whimsical, anything popsicle. Yeah, something frozen is appropriate right now. Cold in Tennessee, the Autumn Snap. Enough to wake you up, or make you want to stay asleep. Enough to make you want to cry, or make you want to shred lettuce. Enough of that already. Ok, I'll stop, but not until I mention that Tom acquiesced, forwarded the much-heralded Circuit City Circular to me. I will sleep like a baby tonight. The only bummer about getting all of these electronic circulars is that you don't have anything to housetrain your pets....

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2005 -- Once again I have been denied. No Circuit City Circular from my buddy Tom. I am experiencing major withdrawal symptoms. I am convinced that this man's heart has been abandoned, left on a dusty street somewhere. How can he do this? He has found the ultimate weapon, the means to eradicate my desire to live. It leaves me feeling uncomfortable, hungry for a time when gadget promotions were merely spoonfed to us via e-mail. Now I have to find something lame like a newspaper or tv, or the ultimate torture, ad-hoc window shopping. Retaliation is the only answer. As soon as I can lift my head, the planning stages will begin.

An era of sorts has ended for Lori and me. Tai chi class was terminated. Lack of attendance, budget cuts. Our instructor Jim has been a great inspiration. It has been and will be all good.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2005 -- Splendidly tasteful artifacts of fear have infiltrated the sousaphones. Why, do you ask? Oh I don't know. It must have something to do with country music. There's too much twang in my beef stroganoff. Lilacs grow on cereal boxes. Giving nothing away, they lilt in swarmy coattails until the dew reaches orgasmic proportions.

It was good to see my bud Denny Tilton in town. He got a good taste of Nashville, his first big session. He told me to come by Wilhagen's last night. Got there after the French Quarter gig. Met Denny's gracious host Gary Gulbergh, also saw Doc West, Robert Shelter, his SO Sheila, Dar Frantz, and a gentleman named Joe Green. I'm sure I'm forgetting someone. It was a terrific song circle. Oh and a shy keyboard player named Jenny? But all terrific songs and fun--in the 70 degree November heat. And he came over tonight to see our place. Thanks for forgiving the mess, Denny. Get back home safe--great to see folks excited about this town!

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2005 -- Lesbian cheerleaders. That's the big story today. Carolina Panthers NFL broohaha. Oy! The liberal elite can't leave anything alone--they're infiltrating every nook and cranny of civilization! This is evidence of the continued deterioration of our society. Last rites imminent, Batman!!! Take their bios down, take their pictures down, it's all over. Bringing depravity upon an unblemished sport. Shame, shame, shame. Oh so oh so oh so UNAMERICAN. The sponsors will pull out, the fans will have a tainted view of the team and the players and the sacred league forevermore. And what will the kids think? That this kind of activity is ok? Hold it. I can't breathe. This is way too fucking overwhelming....

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2005 -- It's way too late to be doing this. Some people might say that. I don't agree. It's never too late to do anything, except be late. You can talk to your Mom about it, talk to your Paw about it, talk to your Dawg about it, but there's nothing you can do. It's a fact of life. Like that lint that's in your bellybutton.

Had a great couple of nights. A rare gig last night--Springfield, TN, Talents Coffee Studio. Lori and I had a terrific time and got to meet the new owners, Tim and Anna Anderson. Great folks, and a laid back environment. Tim knew exactly how to deal with my hip-hop persona, even though this was deep in Tennessee/Kentucky territory. We got in and we made it out alive, I'm happy to report.

We then got to come back and see James Peters and JavaGrass perform a terrific set tonight. It was a laid back atmosphere classic American music filling the air. A highlight for me was watching Cody play that dobro. We got to jam last night too, and frankly, he shreds on the electric as well. He's an old-timer and he's only a junior in high school. James, a good friend, is one hell of a musician and writer. Better get to practicing! Whew!

A new friend Dave and I started up a conversation as well, which was enjoyable. We yacked right through half of the band's set--I hate when the band gets in the way when I'm trying to listen to someone : ) He's hungry to write some songs, and he will. Talents is no doubt a place to get inspired.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2005 -- My buddy Tom got back at me in a pretty big way. Let's just say that I've been morphed into a most unusual photo, my head on the body of an original Star Trek cast member (who, because of his sexual orientation, by the way, is not protected from workplace discrimination). I can't publish the photo here for legal reasons. I mean I'd do it, but it would mean a big heap o' trouble, more litigation, more of the "wrong" kind of press (not that I get any press at all...). Tom will probably start a blog of his own just so he can publish this work of art and others just like it. Good goin', Tom.

Speaking of Tom, he got his iPod for free. Well he worked his butt off to get it, but that's not the point. He didn't pay cash for it. Well, neither did I, but that's another point entirely. In an effort to steer clear of drive-time commercials, I use a little radio transmitter, attach it to the iPod, tune into a clear station on the radio, and turn on shuffle. It works quite well. The only thing is if you forget to recharge on occasion, you're stuck with drive-time commercials again.

Well, the battery power was out, so it was time to switch between stations, maybe to, if lucky, find a good couple of songs on the way to my day job. It started on NPR, with a report concerning a special find relating to Fisk University and Mississippi field recordings of Folk Music. There was an assertion that one of the Lomaxes (Lomax being the King of all Folk Music documenters) had an agenda concerning what type of music to document and present--the suggestion being that some of the recordings were possbily being hidden. Some were unearthed, allegedly, deep in the Lomax vaults. They had mysteriously disappeared during a more critical time. It sounded all controversial, all devious. Definitely a Halloween Horror Story of epic proportions--Folk Music Mutilation to the nth degree.

I eventually wandered to my country presets. As I was heading down toward Brentwood on I-65, a song came on which sounded so incredibly simple, it was almost disturbing. When something like this comes on I'm in syllable-counting mode. Oh, maybe 5% or so of the words had more than one. I think it was called "Red Neck Girl". Pleasant enough I suppose. But then as I got past the Old Hickory exit, "God Bless the Broken Road" came on. I can't help but cry when I hear that one. Rascal Flatts perform it, at least the "hit" version. My wife gave me the album with the original version--Marcus Hummon, a great Nashville writer. Talk about a song that resonates. No it ain't hillbilly music, but it hits me hard. Pretty neat diversity on these stations sometimes. Getting classic country in, and then something quite sophisticated like this. Variegated verses, I guess.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2005 -- My buddy Tom doesn't think I'll ever write about him on this site. He thinks I'm too private a person, too clandestine, too prissy, too uptight, too protective and anal about the whole thing, this blogging stuff, this sharing of anything meaningful or engaging, useful or insightful. Tom thinks my site is totally devoid of content. Tom thinks I have an attitude. Tom thinks this, Tom thinks that. Who does he think he is, anyway--Tom?

Tom is the man. The family man. The man on the go, on the move, groovin' to Britney Spears in his iPod (he's got ten songs on it), nationwide, worldwide, he's on your side, he doesn't hide. He's a BADASS. I wonder if he owns stock in Circuit City. He sends those e-fliers all the time. But he sends them as text files, not html. What's up with that, Tom? If you expect me to buy into all of this electronics stuff, you've got to make it a multimedia experience! DUDE! Wake up and smell the technology!!

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2005 -- Well, I tried, I worked at it, got my perfect blog prepared for my first myspace.com entry. The machine blew up. Problem in between chair and terminal. I didn't look carefully enough before clicking Mr. Back Button, and wham!!! Gone!!! Lovely, very well-thought out, meaningful lines concerning Cold Fusion code and decency and ecumenical blasphemies. All gone forever. Well, maybe some forensics expert could recover it. But not me. I'm just a computer programmer--er, singer/songwriter.

So this myspace is quite a number, quite an online community. I had heard about it but didn't witness it too much until recently, when a friend and musician Lair Morgan sent an e-mail with a link to his band's site. I can't find the link anymore. It's Hurricane Doyle. Matt Ramsey and Lair are members of the band. I haven't gone out to see them live yet, but knowing them, I know it'll be a damned good show.

You can click the myspace link below and be set up there. It's quite a spectacle.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2005 -- It was an impeccable day. A glorious one. A blue sky day in the middle of October, an Indian Summerish Autumnism. An altruistic venture into the world of mysterious alchemy. Insofar as I keep the elongated noose upon the hill of fear, the estrogen nadir spills upwards as if to say "Come hither and never belong to the night."

Oh really. Trent Jeffcoat is my new favorite singer. Lori and I had heard him back at The Bluebird a time or two. He recently sang on a demo for me and Barbara Cloyd. Trent did a tremendous job. He's southern, and he's country, and his voice is rich and rare. The song is called "I Didn't Have a Prayer". The song, especially with Trent singing it, hit home and hit hard. Powerful stuff, this music. I think I'll keep at it....

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2005 -- The things that go on in the world. Can you get them out of your head? Can you get them out of other people's heads? Or is it really these people's heads in which these things go on? Have you spoken with your dog today? Do you even have one? Or do you imagine all of this? Am I fucking with your head?

Are there strangers in your cereal bowl asking for reservations?

These are all serious questions worthy of consideration and reflection. They come from somewhere, they travel many miles and land somewhere between my ears. It's not right, I know, but it is nonetheless.

I can feel the holiday season coming on already. Are the ads and circulars and reindeer mugs and silly little santa slippers showing up already? Maybe not. But I can feel the anticipation, the wonder, the DREAD. : )

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2005 -- It's all got me spinnin'. The information superhighway, the misinformation machine, one catastrophe following another. When does it end? When will the good news arrive? Well, with the Pakistan earthquake, NPR reported this morning that survivors are still being found 78 hours afterwards; and there was a story too about some Nashville church members going to Mississippi to help out. Good news.

The only way to really come to grips with that is to be there, and maybe further and that, experience the loss yourself. You can start to picture the experience in your mind, but it just plain old ain't the same thing. My approach, I guess, is to keep believing in love and mercy and peace. Never giving up on them.

Great news has come for me musically. My friends John Russell and Misty Loggins recently won a contest promoted by WSM radio honoring the 80th Anniversary of The Grand Ol' Opry wherein the winner would wind up opening for country legend Ray Price--all at the "mother church" of country music, The Ryman Auditorium. As a really cool bonus, they will be performing "Red Neck with the White Collar Blues", a tune John and I cowrote. We laughed pretty hard while we were writing it, and I hope the sold out crowd at The Ryman will be doing the same. Go get 'em, John and Misty!!!

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2005 -- What does it take to savor every moment? A threat to your life? A commitment to slow down? It would be great to have awareness of all going by and be fully in those moments, as long as they are not excruciating....There's no reason to invite agony into your world. The curious may be an exception. The curious and the masochistic. There are such levels of consciousness and spirituality and presentness. What privilege to be in this fabric and be relating to it fully. Eh, who needs that. Just get me a beer and a NASCAR race, or maybe some CNN or better yet FOX News. What a way to be in the world. A snap is in the air this week, crispness, at least in the morning. It smacks you into another state of mind. For me it's reflection. Such an obvious shift coming, it pries the eyes open. Sensing the sacred more than just about anything else. Do you remember the sacred? And what does this season mean to all of us in light of what we've been through? Perhaps it does not matter and we've been through it all before. But I'll believe that there is something new ahead, something better. Not the "same old".

THURSAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2005 -- Fatigue, brought on by an endless number of things. Seeing myself as tired as the sleepy-eyed moon. Are you that tired too? Are you too young to be tired? Are you fit to be tired? People sometimes try to be too much all at once. No, I am not one of THOSE people. No, not me.

We go in spurts of one sort or another. I'm in a music fan spurt right now, more of a consumer than a creator. On musical and creative input. Dan Bern is a favorite. He's got idealism and anger woven tightly together with insanity. That's my kind of polite singer/songwriterism. A track of his that really gets me is "Jerusalem". "10 whole days in Jerusalem," he says. I've been there, I sensed the magic of it, the history of it, the history of so many of us. Bern catches the ecstatic, spiritual nature of it, and he does it euphorically.

The way he emphasizes the chords--he knows something we don't. And he's transporting it to us through that acoustic guitar. It's not a blistering solo ala Yngwie Malmsteen or anything such like, but it floors me. It's why I listen to music!!! He brings fearlessness into his work. Not afraid to fall, not afraid to take that big leap, the one that will make us gasp in disbelief--"how could someone say or believe that?".

I can believe it, and I believe it's voices like Dan's that pull us out of the quagmire of commercial music. There are those that are anti-processed. Rare indeed. It's worth it to seek these out. Not that there's a lack of killer talent in the commercial realm, but it's condensed and pasteurized and destigmatized and pulverized to a great extent. Free form radio, that's where to go from here. But if that's all we get then I'll be whining about those purveyors of musical taste. You simply can't win. It's angst all over again, deja vu once more. Unavoidable. Inevitable. Like mold.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2005 -- My lovely wife Lori cut out a newspaper article last night. It seems that certain "groups" cannot handle Yoga as Yoga, they have to appropriate it and make it part of their own dogma. Reading that kind of article makes me want to spew huge iconoclastic chunks.

My buddy Neil and I took the pilgrimage on Thursday to Graceland. We were both humbled by the experience. We were then humbled by a very aggressive panhandler when we went downtown looking for ribs. The rib place I knew was The Rendezvous--only because John Hiatt mentions it in his great song "Memphis in the Meantime". Memphis was definitely mean in this situation. I'd call the situation an "ostensible mugging". Who knows, maybe I was just helping out a strung out soul....or maybe I was being punished for not being a vegan?

Friday it was Chattanooga. Adrian Belew was absolutely stellar. And I caught bass player Mike Gallaher's sweaty towel. Bonus dude! Neil thinks I can get a couple of bucks for it on Ebay, maybe on an Adrian forum. Right. And I'll be able to sell my hair, too--what's left of it anyway!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2005 -- It is such an equinoxious day. End of summer, end of freedom, end of all hope and generosity among nations. End of humidity, end of flies and mosquitos, end of wasps, hornets, picnics. The beginning of the slow retreat into hibernation, overall withdrawal--symptoms or not--and loathing. I am corresponding with my innermost self today. Not really, but it seemed like a neat thing to say.

My buddy Neil has come from the mountains of Santa Cruz. A little California right here in Tennessee. The clash of states, cultures, gene pools all are discussed in abundance. Neil is one of the best damned musicians around. I told him nearly thirty years ago that it would take me ten years to be good enough to play with him. Although he has since invited me to play on a terrific international recording project, I still feel blown away by his musicianship. He kicks butt and he's a huge fan of great progressive artists like Adrian Belew.

He's a bud and it's great for him to be here!! The lower Broad honky-tonks have made the trip for him I think.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2005 -- Am I feeling musical? Do I feel like a songwriter? Sure! Hey, why not? There's so much to sing about these days! The flowers and the calm, soothing temperament of the times and of our world. ALL JOY, MAN!!! ALL ROSY PERFECT PURDY-LIKE!!

The climate, it goes noticed. The climate, being not only our hurricane climate, the season for them, but the climate of our spiritual lives, our political climate. All seems stormy, all seems volatile. Every moment, every word by anyone is used as political ammunition. There's an inexhaustible stockpile of every kind available. And the special top-secret spin weapon weaves and weaves and weaves its neutron swath. The only things left standing are the pollsters.

An alleged university student called this evening and asked a heap of political questions relating to an educational poll. I answered freely. I answered frankly. She did not, imho, ask questions in a biased manner. It was good to participate. I often receive marketing research calls--never so many as in Nashville. I stopped talking to the callers, but I'm glad to have made this exception.

I'm on an emusic.com plan, and I did some downloads tonight. Mary Black being one of them, some Irish music. The prices are fantastic, it's legal, and it seems that the performers here are under the radar. It reminded me of some of the music that a high school teacher gave me. Decided to google him. Very little was there, other than an open letter to President Bush. It was signed by 823 alumni of Calvin College. The content was thoughtful and patriotic. I'm glad I stumbled upon it. I must call this teacher!

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2005 -- The tech support moon is waning. I'm just wondering if there's life beyond this....

The art when found, the art collides
With non-art
That's the magnificent rule
That we follow ethereally in Autumn.
As jackhammers unite in song, all to call upon our Fair Lady,
She eats no breakfast

The heaven that comes to those of us who eat of the bread of willingness, we receive with grace. Not for the hearty, woe-filled petunias of destruction, but for the lasting imminence reserved for nations indisposed, indiscreet, in denial, in detrimental awnings. Bullets fly south for unguarded moments, to reach a syntactical climax. The sectarians reach forth and tear asunder the zeitgeist tutorials, and their bravado shines like molasses glistening in the artificial sun light. The Mountain Dew of glory cometh upon you and you fear your spatula because you can.

What was in that jackhammer anyway?

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 -- Tech support has been my life this week. Everything's broken. Body, computer, house, well maybe not everything. There's lots of stuff that's working. Like my car. Many many miles on the Honda. Of course, COST PER MILE is a minor issue. Someone was telling me recently that an HBO commentator has this "balanced" political show, and he gets celebs on, all with various political leanings. Chris Rock was one of the guests, and all he did on this installment was yell "Cheap Gas! Cheap Gas!!"

So what got us in this predicament? Complacency? Greed? Madison Avenue convincing us that we need all of this stuff? Where would we be in America without automobiles? I suppose many of us would be in better shape. My Dad always told me that we'd be knee deep in horse shit. Dad has said a lot of things. He's told me things that his Dad told him. Once in a while I pass those gems along to folks, and they usually give me a dirty look, a smirk to dismiss my gutter humor. I'm insufferable.

Maybe I'll write a song about it. Maybe I'll post it here. Who knows, maybe someday it'll break all records, make me tens of dollars, allow me to own shopping centers, Republican candidates, brothels, other songwriters, maybe a few churches. Hey, so much is possible in this life, in this world. One can dream, can't one?

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2005 -- I sense the changing of the seasons coming. It throws my equilibrium off. Ahhh, the sound of coffee beans grinding. Pleasure to the ears, the senses, the music of java. From time to time I grind other stuff in it, like coriander, cloves, orange peels, cashews. There's nothing like the steam from a hot cup o' joe to obscure the churning of the earth. And once again it feels we are slipping into another season, another American mood.

I sit in disbelief at the continuing reports on the aftermath, the impact of Katrina. The impact on all of us. As blame gets tossed around like a hot political potato, there are those who are concentrating on making a difference in the lives of those who have been affected. As a songwriter, just about since 9/11, I have been largely silent. This to me feels like a blow that will let that silence persist. It's that disbelief, that feeling that any words, any notes, cannot explain this, that these episodes are so harrowing that they are beyond human expression. They're still beyond mine anyway.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2005 -- It is more and more of a challenge to remain uninfluenced by the press, by our current events. With this catastrophe hitting home, this tragedy of Katrina--nevermind all of the other minor world events. It is something I cannot quite fathom, how this force of nature can strike such a blow to our modern, seemingly catastrophe-immune communities.

We encounter vulnerability. We encounter events with which we cannot reconcile. We can't process this. I know that no matter what I see on TV, what I read about, what I hear about--is not the same thing as being there, as having experienced this horrific episode in real time, in real pain. This will bring us together; we will reach a point of new beginning and promise. I will do my best to help.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2005 -- Well, it's Labor Day, I need to capitalize that. Do I need to capitalize on it? Has anyone ever capitalized on anything? The big American Flag Day, the Big Sale Day. I am the Big Consumer heading out to Home Depot to fix my sink. Or maybe I'll just stay home. There's my Labor Day. And who will speak the "U" word, the "U" that got us weekends in the first place? Hmmm? I've never been in a union, maybe there are union soldiers so to speak, who are proletariat evangelists seeking to liberate us from all corporate evil. Or maybe they are just fisherman looking for a better way of life. I don't really know, but I'm glad I'm free to wonder about it.

There are those of us who are do-it-yourselfers. There's not much I do myself, well, not in an American Sportsmen or Survivor kind of way. More in a really domesticated, geeky kind of way. Like doing your own website. I've been hard at work on this and will continue to be, I guess until I come to my senses. I certainly hope that folks who come to visit will find this site entertaining and functional. And may it change their lives to the point that, hey, we wouldn't need this kind of medium to communicate. But the whole world as small fishbowl mentality and paradigm do have their appeal. I'll keep trying to do it myself until either A) I freak, B) someone else freaks or C) all of the above.