Review: An Elegy For A Lost City with Johnny Goldstein

Review: An Elegy For A Lost City
By: Song River
For: Vents Magazine


As you step out onto the porch and the breeze hits your face, the evening stings. The lucky sun is setting and the tempestuous moon is rising. The scents of smelly old fish, floral jasmine and the harsh humidity mix together to create an intoxicating dance movement that speaks the only language New Orleans can... The words of her bosom. As a mother comforts her lost child and enfolds herself around you as you drown your fears into the crease of her breasts and remember the reason you came to listen. This is the yarn spinning ease of Woodstock Generation New Orleans, Johnny Goldstein, who left the open birth canal and headed up the river due to whatever life had handed him. A mixture of prose, stories, and soulful music.

I remember the hot summer nights when the heat, humidity and lightning bolts were almost as big and fat as the mosquito's biting. There wasn't much else for us to do, but wrap ourselves in cool wet sheets lay on the stone floor and listen to the whistling nose sounds of Garrison Keller. What a way to grow up. Storytelling yarns about things you knew nothing about, but wanted to try. Whether it was throwing a ripe, more like a rotten tomato, at your sister's butt as she ran across the garden from you, or listening to the old fashion advertising radio shots over the airways. As they enticed you like a two-bit siren into buying things you didn't really need. All of it wove the fabric into my early adulthood. Where, as a teen, I found a kinship with Samuel Clemens and a relationship in the beatnik world of Jack Kerouac. Now here we have a new story-teller coming along. A genuine way of spinning the yarns as those who did before and now. A gumbo mixture of truth, observations, stories, music, history, fate, and a true elegy given beginning with Hurricane Katrina's delta blues. New Orleans sips the voodoo that we all do so well. There is not your “Three Dog Night” light crying in the halls of Shambala. There is only humankind facing the elements knowing all along it is nature in charge. Whether the ending times told by those who believe, or a scare tactic used to zombify the masses, we are all connected according to An Elegy For A Lost City spoken by Johnny Goldstein.


Come sit a spell on the stoop with me. I've got a glass of sweet tea and a kiss to dance the blues away. Step away from the hell hole you've found yourself in for a moment. It's going to alright.

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