Morriconi

Ennio Moriconi’s soundtrack for Clint Eastwood’s “Fistful of Dollars” greeted me over my first cup of coffee this morning.
I was afraid of what would pop up like maybe Cat Stevens. My jukebox Brain has been alerted to the fact that I am writing about it’s morning musical memory recitals. Like I said before, I have no control over what song my brain whips up in the morning. Spaghetti westerns are not bad.
The phenom of media is all-encompassing now. Netflix docs on Clint mentioned that his agent thought going to Italy was a bad idea. “Malpasso” became his production company name. “Bad Idea”. Bad agents not with standing.
We have passed through the era of “anti-hero” and are now in terra incognita as far as male roll models go. Good luck.
I identified with Clint too much as a young man. So romantic: ride in, blast the bad guys, love the ladies and ride out of town. Much like being a drummer. We are living a dream. Unless we have to work for a living.
I am looking forward to the future. The present-not so much. Pulling together isn’t something that is popular right now. Morriconi knew how to get an orchestra to cooperate and the result was great art. Let’s hope for the best.