Thursday, February 22, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
No mail today means no bills so props to all our Presidents living and dead. I've got no funky stories to tell today, no musical proverbs to drop, and just generally feel like an out of date cheese spread on a stale cracker. I've heard that nervous breakdown bald is the new thing, but I'll just stick to my traditional February angst and localized blah.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Pure analog movement - does this mean swilling on heavenly milkshakes with Darby Crash at the Vicious Ice Cream & Soda Shop or perhaps punching one's head into the largest 8-track player in the universe. Perhaps it means transcribing every lyric ever penned by Lemmy in elaborate monk style script and when done you rip it up and burn it, go on a three day bender, and then start again. Faint echoes of "Party people in the place to be" body rock their way across the frozen digital tundra of my mind leaving traces and flashes of steel and whited out record labels that "say hey, say ho!" Simplification ends with amplification cross pollination the center won't hold but I've got one middle finger strong enough to hold on.
What ever happened to New Jack Swing; wasn't that the thing.
Bobby Jimmy & The Critters for Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. You can't exterminate greatness like "Gotta' Potty." The signs all point to a magnitude on the one explosion of funky fresh goodness. Free bread and flea circuses. Nonsensical instumentals with black tails and tie banquets of distorted contortions. Take a chance, James. Calgon gonna' sho nuff take you away. Dinosaurs are learning on Sedimentary Street; they ate Gordon and Susan reet petite. Lord Dunsany's rap, "Man is a small thing, and the night is large and full of wonder." He forgot to add "Fergilicious."
The Hold Steady are not the best "indie bar band" in America. They are simply the best band.
The pack of desolate angels on the corner might have liked comedy bits, but they were downright hostile to digital bits. They thought it led it to the inflation of knowledge without wisdom and "hey buddy, can you spare a Camel cigarette?" Just longing to be considered a nemesis to authority. Like those feisty broads in the Dixie Chickens. No sexists, those angels. Reality extrusion intrusion: I miss country stores - their dusty counters old chocolate tiny black and white portable television with bunny ears dark mysterious items inventoried for decades rusted paint peeling sign outside screen door slamming Leo peppermint all this and a bag of chips.
'Til next time.