Cali Custom Guitars

Wherever you're headed, our totally portable, fun and reversible bed in a duffel is ready to go when you are. The easy, complete set - including reversible comforter, fitted sheet, flat sheet, pillowcase(s), sham(s), and re-usable matching duffel bag - is designed to make your bed look meant to be, wherever you end up. This Rock N Roll pattern reverses to a solid Grey Flannel with Square Dot sheets. The set includes 1- TWIN XL Comforter, 1- Flat Sheet, 1- Fitted Sheet, 1- Pillowcase, 1- Sham & 1- Re-usable Duffle Bag.

Three generations of rock guitarists come together for It Might Get Loud, a 2009 documentary directed by Davis Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth). These are not just your garden-variety guitar gods: Jimmy Page, in his mid-'60s at the time of the film, founded Led Zeppelin, who dominated the 1970s following the breakup of the Beatles. As a member of U2, 48-year-old David Evans, better known as the Edge, created one of the most distinctive and influential sounds of the past quarter century. And 34-year-old Jack White (of the White Stripes, the Raconteurs, and the Dead Weather) was described by one music publication as "the most significant rock 'n' roll figure of the past ten years." Guggenheim, who followed the three around for the better part of a year, takes us into their individual lives, past and present. There are shots of Page as a young London session musician, with the Yardbirds and Zeppelin, at Headley Grange (the estate where much of the fourth Zep album was made), and at home with his record collection. The Edge takes us to the Dublin classroom where U2 first rehearsed, as well as to the practice room he uses now (never a virtuoso soloist, he developed a style based on texture and a mind-boggling array of effects); and White, whose insistence on authenticity is admirable but perhaps a tad self-conscious, constructs a "guitar" from a plank of wood, a piece of wire, and a Coke bottle (he also plays a recording by the primitive bluesman Son House, featuring just voice and handclaps, that White says is still his biggest inspiration). The three also converge on a Hollywood sound stage, where they chat and a do a little jamming on Zep's "In My Time of Dying" (with all three playing slide guitar) and the Band's "The Weight." It's hard to say if the film's appeal will extend beyond guitar freaks and fans of these particular bands, but at the very least, It Might Get Loud offers some interesting insight into the soul and inspiration behind some of pop's best and most popular music. --Sam Graham

Guggenheim follows three star rock musicians for a year, exploring their musical roots and innovations on the electric guitar.

Three generations of rock guitarists come together for It Might Get Loud, a 2009 documentary directed by Davis Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth). These are not just your garden-variety guitar gods: Jimmy Page, in his mid-'60s at the time of the film, founded Led Zeppelin, who dominated the 1970s following the breakup of the Beatles. As a member of U2, 48-year-old David Evans, better known as the Edge, created one of the most distinctive and influential sounds of the past quarter century. And 34-year-old Jack White (of the White Stripes, the Raconteurs, and the Dead Weather) was described by one music publication as "the most significant rock 'n' roll figure of the past ten years." Guggenheim, who followed the three around for the better part of a year, takes us into their individual lives, past and present. There are shots of Page as a young London session musician, with the Yardbirds and Zeppelin, at Headley Grange (the estate where much of the fourth Zep album was made), and at home with his record collection. The Edge takes us to the Dublin classroom where U2 first rehearsed, as well as to the practice room he uses now (never a virtuoso soloist, he developed a style based on texture and a mind-boggling array of effects); and White, whose insistence on authenticity is admirable but perhaps a tad self-conscious, constructs a "guitar" from a plank of wood, a piece of wire, and a Coke bottle (he also plays a recording by the primitive bluesman Son House, featuring just voice and handclaps, that White says is still his biggest inspiration). The three also converge on a Hollywood sound stage, where they chat and a do a little jamming on Zep's "In My Time of Dying" (with all three playing slide guitar) and the Band's "The Weight." It's hard to say if the film's appeal will extend beyond guitar freaks and fans of these particular bands, but at the very least, It Might Get Loud offers some interesting insight into the soul and inspiration behind some of pop's best and most popular music. --Sam Graham

Guggenheim follows three star rock musicians for a year, exploring their musical roots and innovations on the electric guitar.

In 1996, composer, producer, and guitar legend Ry Cooder entered Egrem Studios in Havana with the forgotten greats of Cuban music, many of them in their 60s and 70s, some of them long since retired. The resulting album, Buena Vista Social Club, became a Grammy-winning international bestseller. When Cooder returned to Havana in 1998 to record a solo album by 72-year-old vocalist Ibrahim Ferrer, filmmaker Wim Wenders was on hand to document the occasion. Wenders splits the film between portraits of the performers, who tell their stories directly to the camera as they wander the streets and neighborhoods of Havana, and a celebration of the music heard in performance scenes in the studio, in their first concert in Amsterdam, and in their second and final concert at Carnegie Hall. The songs are too often cut short in this fashion, but Buena Vista Social Club is not a concert film. Wenders weaves the artist biographies with a glimpse of modern Cuba remembering its past, capturing a lost culture in music that is suddenly, unexpectedly revived for audiences in Havana and around the world. Wenders makes his presence practically invisible, as if his directorial flourishes or off-screen narration might deflect attention from the artists, who do a fine job of telling their own stories through interviews and music. It's a loving portrait of a master class in Cuban music, with a vital cast of aging performers whose energy and passion belie their years. --Sean Axmaker

A legendary recording featuring the recently re-discovered talents of Cuba's foremost folk musicians. It reveals astonishing life stories, vibrant per

If you're 25 or older and you can only give your children one snapshot of popular music, circa '60- '90, buy them a copy of this tape. Bonnie Raitt, Jennifer Warnes, k.d. lang, John David Souther, Jackson Brown and Steven Soules sing backing vocals. Elvis Costello, Tom Waits, Bruce Springsteen and T-Bone Burnett, among others,play instrumental second fiddles. And they all do it for Roy Orbison. The architect of the symphonic, Ravel-like love song. The singer of singers. Just weeks before he died he played a concert in Boston and the local critic said, (I paraphrase) "he repeated that last line, in his falsetto voice, over and over and over as if to say, 'I'm still here and can do it...anytime.'" The videotape is revelatory. Stephen Burton (guitar) shows, over and over again, why he is to studio musicians and especially to guitar players, an icon non-pareil. He is Chet Atkins, Django Reinhardt, Bucky Pizzarelli, all in one. The tape does a tidy review of Orbison's hits. More remarkable than the performance of those hits is the reverential looks and obvious excitment of Springsteen, Costello, lang, Raitt, Browne, etc. as they accompany him on his tour of transistor radio hits. Forget the Wilbury's. This is Roy's night. Deservedly. Roy knew how to constrain all that emotion behind his words until he was ready to release it. In the last moments of the tape Roy sings "Pretty Woman" and it opens up into a jam-for-all. It is a video to love. And that doesn't even begin to address Orbison's lyrics: "A candy colored clown they call the sandman; tiptoes to my room every night; just to sprinkle star dust and to whisper: "go to sleep, everything is alright." Buy the tape. Re-learn what was good and true (men "do" cry") about popular music in the sixties and the seventies.