God In Corduroy: Corde Du Roi

A Prickly Relationship

Spent the morning scratching around amongst my records for a corduroy-clad-crooner (see last blog). Still considering the correspondence between the grooves of a vinyl record and corduroy fabric. The nearest I can find: Gentleman Jim Reeves – a legend sitting cross-legged, fingers crossed - outside a gas station, contemplating 'the hand of God', in a cactus. 

Or is the cactus standing in for Christ on the cross? We arrive at another crossroads (cross-cords?)  He’s got a ‘far-off’ Godly look in his eyes, but his hands are saying cactus; and the cactus says corduroy.

Cacti = corduroy. Scratching + records = needles, and cacti are known for their needles - and don’t you ‘cut’ a record? And if you read nails for needles, and Reeves as thieves - two thieves were crucified either side of Jesus, but the bible doesn’t name them – you’ve found God; and if you can find God in a cactus, why shouldn't he exist - if not be seen - in corduroy as well? Corduroy in French is, ‘Corde du roi’ (‘cord of the king’): God’s own fabric. Where are my (late) Elvis records? Bring me The King in a corduroy jumpsuit with sequins.

Consider another prickly relationship: ‘Moonlight and Roses’ (released the year I was born). No corduroy, but it’s Jim Reeves again, and it’s a Dynagroove recording. 

Dynagroove records have "a realistic presence – sound projected in ‘photographic' perspective", and any "inner-groove distortion is virtually eliminated". I bet it sound’s heavenly. I’m going to wait till it gets dark, data-project it big on my wall, and distort my dancing shadow in front of it. And I dance like I'm being crucified on a cactus.