Thursday, November 17, 2016
Signs of the Apocalypse?
1. The Chicago Cubs win the World Series.
2. The 2016 Presidential Election.
3. I actually like this new Sting song.
What is the world coming to?
Labels:
Sting
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Monday, October 31, 2016
Only the Words of Love Kept Alive Are Worty of Not Being Wasted
Just before finding out if he had Huntington's Chorea, the hereditary nerve disease that killed his father.
Just after converting to Catholicism.
Just in the middle of thinking about where he stood in the cosmic scheme of things.
And wanting to be remembered for more than a novelty record played on daring FM stations every Thanksgiving.
Not the greatest songs in the world.
More than a couple clunkers in the lyrics.
But honest and pure at a time when honesty and purity were being faked and sold by the pound.
Just after converting to Catholicism.
Just in the middle of thinking about where he stood in the cosmic scheme of things.
And wanting to be remembered for more than a novelty record played on daring FM stations every Thanksgiving.
Not the greatest songs in the world.
More than a couple clunkers in the lyrics.
But honest and pure at a time when honesty and purity were being faked and sold by the pound.
Labels:
Arlo Guthrie
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Things Was Looking Golden, Baby
There is a place where the clouds come together.
Soft. Billowing. And white.
Or grey. And rainy. And threatening.
Because, as a friend likes to tell me, it all depends how you look at things.
Up, down, all around now baby...
Soft. Billowing. And white.
Or grey. And rainy. And threatening.
Because, as a friend likes to tell me, it all depends how you look at things.
Up, down, all around now baby...
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Poster Child for "Not a Morning Person"
Far too early for man or beast....
Labels:
Lovin' Spoonful
Friday, October 14, 2016
For the Rest of Our Days
I've always loved this (in demo form) and it's great to hear the full-band version.
Labels:
XTC
Sunday, October 2, 2016
This Wonderful (Animated) Thing
Been there. Done that. Posed for the T-shirt.
Labels:
dBs
Monday, September 26, 2016
Let's Just Leave This Here
For the 100 Million People Expected to Watch the Debate Tonight:
Labels:
Too Much Joy
Friday, September 16, 2016
Let's Face It
It's STILL Sunday?
(Written by the mighty, mighty Difford & Tilbrook, back when that meant something...)
(Written by the mighty, mighty Difford & Tilbrook, back when that meant something...)
Labels:
Dave Edmunds,
Nick Lowe,
Rockpile
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Taller Than The Rafters
Late For This, Late For That
I'll just leave this here.
I'll just leave this here.
Labels:
Lumineers
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Such A Small-Town Rodeo
Ian F*cking Hunter.
77 Years Old. Tribute to Bowie.
What's not to love?
And one from the past:
77 Years Old. Tribute to Bowie.
What's not to love?
And one from the past:
Labels:
Ellen Foley,
Ian Hunter
Monday, September 5, 2016
Meanwhile, I'm Still Thinking
Another year around the sun, huh?
Labels:
Graham Parker,
the Figgs
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
We Are the Makers of Music, We Are the Dreamers of Dreams...
Conversation overheard at a coffee shop yesterday:
-- It's really sad about Gene WIlder. But it's spooky too because I just heard his song on the radio yesterday.
-- Which song?
-- "Friday I'm in love."
-- They play that every Friday.
-- Yeah, but yesterday was Sunday. And then he died.
-- He was so great in "Blazing Saddles."
-- Was that before the Cure?
-- Maybe. They talked about a lot of stuff he did on the news, but they didn't mention that.
-- I'm happy for Gilda Radner, though.
-- I wonder if she liked "Friday I'm in Love."
-- Maybe he wrote it for her.
-- Yeah, probably.
-- And "Young Frankenstein."
-- I don't know that song.
And at that point I left. Because after determining that these people somehow believed Gene Wilder and the lead singer for the Cure were the same person, I worried the stupid might be contagious.
-- It's really sad about Gene WIlder. But it's spooky too because I just heard his song on the radio yesterday.
-- Which song?
-- "Friday I'm in love."
-- They play that every Friday.
-- Yeah, but yesterday was Sunday. And then he died.
-- He was so great in "Blazing Saddles."
-- Was that before the Cure?
-- Maybe. They talked about a lot of stuff he did on the news, but they didn't mention that.
-- I'm happy for Gilda Radner, though.
-- I wonder if she liked "Friday I'm in Love."
-- Maybe he wrote it for her.
-- Yeah, probably.
-- And "Young Frankenstein."
-- I don't know that song.
And at that point I left. Because after determining that these people somehow believed Gene Wilder and the lead singer for the Cure were the same person, I worried the stupid might be contagious.
Labels:
The Cure
Thursday, July 28, 2016
The Airwaves They Took Me
So many late nights. Listening. In the dark. Under the covers.
Missives coming in from miles away.
Longing and loss and jangly guitars.
So much information in a quick hiccup of a vocal.
So many who wanted exactly, exactly what was offered.
So many dark nights. Driving and wishing.
The radio pointing me home. Even when I wasn't sure what home even meant.
The radio sharing cold haunting visions. And warm sparkling thunderous scenes you might never reach.
And, beneath it all... love.
Love and the promise of love were all you needed.
And a tank of gas.
And a vague sense of direction.
Because before satellites and GPS devices in your phones, there was only the vague sense.
And a way to follow. A way to go.
It wasn't always the quickest way. It definitely wasn't always the right way.
But as long as you had the radio with you, it was a way that got you somewhere.
And that got us everywhere.
Labels:
Nada Surf
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Memory Fuses and Shatters Like Glass
You Might Have Laughed If I Told You
Tendrils of memory grab at me late at night.
Looking for something.
Something to cling to.
Driving past places that once were important.
Places that you haunt still.
Places. And memories.
Clinging. And looking to climb.
This is the way things happen these days.
Tendrils reaching. Always. Always reaching.
Tendrils of memory grab at me late at night.
Looking for something.
Something to cling to.
Driving past places that once were important.
Places that you haunt still.
Places. And memories.
Clinging. And looking to climb.
This is the way things happen these days.
Tendrils reaching. Always. Always reaching.
Labels:
REM
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Thursday, July 14, 2016
This Ain't No Roxy Music
And Tomorrow's Just a Song Away...
You basically know they'd have listened to this on the Gilmore Girls if that show had stayed on the air.
But sadly, it went off a long time ago. And then it took seven years after this came out for me to hear it.
Better late than never.
Much, much, much better.
(Produced by Jerry Harrison from Talking Heads, who arguably knows something about truthful songs over an '80s groove...)
You basically know they'd have listened to this on the Gilmore Girls if that show had stayed on the air.
But sadly, it went off a long time ago. And then it took seven years after this came out for me to hear it.
Better late than never.
Much, much, much better.
(Produced by Jerry Harrison from Talking Heads, who arguably knows something about truthful songs over an '80s groove...)
Labels:
Hockey
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Perfection
Amazing what you can do with a voice and two guitars.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Happy Birthday
To your friend & mine, Ringo Starr.
By the way, does anyone else hear a little tribute to Badfinger's "Day After Day" here? Not a huge surprise considering this track was written by George Harrison and Mal Evans...
By the way, does anyone else hear a little tribute to Badfinger's "Day After Day" here? Not a huge surprise considering this track was written by George Harrison and Mal Evans...
Labels:
Badfinger,
Ringo Starr
Friday, June 17, 2016
I Know Just How To Keep You In My Head
This is a wonderful slice of pop heaven.
Labels:
Mo Kenney
Monday, June 13, 2016
Prevention is Better than Cure
Syncopate this.
Labels:
XTC
Sunday, June 12, 2016
I'll say it again...
I wrote this earlier today on Facebook, but I'll share it here too.
I'm sickened by what happened overnight in Orlando. I'm sickened by people who don't care because it was a gay nightclub. I'm sickened by people who delight in the fact that the shooter was Muslim and (apparently) affiliated with Islamic extremist groups. I'm sickened by the rush to brand this as terrorism by the same people who refuse to label as terrorism similar shootings by White Christians. I'm sickened by the continuing efforts of the NRA to block any attempts to limit access to weaponry designed to kill people quickly and to stop law enforcement from limiting access to weapons for people they've already flagged as potential terrorists. I'm sickened by the fact that so many otherwise rational Americans have been convinced that frequent mass shootings with ever larger death tolls are better than any limits on anyone to own any type of weapon. And I'm sickened that my friends who are giving their hearts and souls to making the world a better and safer place have to face news like this (which in many cases echoes their own deep personal traumatic histories) so frequently.
I'm sickened by what happened overnight in Orlando. I'm sickened by people who don't care because it was a gay nightclub. I'm sickened by people who delight in the fact that the shooter was Muslim and (apparently) affiliated with Islamic extremist groups. I'm sickened by the rush to brand this as terrorism by the same people who refuse to label as terrorism similar shootings by White Christians. I'm sickened by the continuing efforts of the NRA to block any attempts to limit access to weaponry designed to kill people quickly and to stop law enforcement from limiting access to weapons for people they've already flagged as potential terrorists. I'm sickened by the fact that so many otherwise rational Americans have been convinced that frequent mass shootings with ever larger death tolls are better than any limits on anyone to own any type of weapon. And I'm sickened that my friends who are giving their hearts and souls to making the world a better and safer place have to face news like this (which in many cases echoes their own deep personal traumatic histories) so frequently.
Labels:
John Lennon
Friday, June 3, 2016
She Won't She Won't
The sign of a glance.
The soft touch.
More: the promise of touch.
That silent electrical moment before contact.
Lingers.
Lingers.
Lingers.
Called forth.
When you don't want it.
When you don't need it.
Reminding. Remembering. Recalling.
And lingering.
Lingering.
Lingering.
The soft touch.
More: the promise of touch.
That silent electrical moment before contact.
Lingers.
Lingers.
Lingers.
Called forth.
When you don't want it.
When you don't need it.
Reminding. Remembering. Recalling.
And lingering.
Lingering.
Lingering.
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Speaking of
... the great and underrated Colin Moulding:
Here he is singing lead on Billy Sherwood's oddball "Just Galileo And Me."
Because the earth is not flat.
Here he is singing lead on Billy Sherwood's oddball "Just Galileo And Me."
Because the earth is not flat.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Memorial Day
Memories, Shadows, Ghosts, Duty, Loyalty, Country, Loss.
This may be the only song I've ever heard that captures what I think of as the heart of Memorial Day.
This may be the only song I've ever heard that captures what I think of as the heart of Memorial Day.
Labels:
XTC
Friday, May 27, 2016
I Got No Friends Cuz They Read The Papers
This song seeped into my brain a few days ago.
And now it won't leave.
There are, of course, much worse things that can happen in life.
And now it won't leave.
There are, of course, much worse things that can happen in life.
Labels:
Alice Cooper
Monday, May 2, 2016
Monkees Divided by XTC Equals
A song you should listen to 30 times in a row instead of leaving your house.
This isn't the best song in the world. But it's really, really good.
And if you hear hints of "Dear Madame Barnum" in this, you're not alone.
This isn't the best song in the world. But it's really, really good.
And if you hear hints of "Dear Madame Barnum" in this, you're not alone.
Labels:
Andy Partridge,
The Monkees,
XTC
Sunday, May 1, 2016
If the pot won't hold our love
Happy May Day.
Labels:
XTC
Friday, April 29, 2016
Lexington One Two Five
There's nothing quite like the power of music to make different cultures come together.
Like when an eccentric Brit leads a South American street march singalong of a prototypical NYC song.
Good for what ails ya.
Like when an eccentric Brit leads a South American street march singalong of a prototypical NYC song.
Good for what ails ya.
Labels:
Robyn Hitchcock
Monday, April 18, 2016
There's a reason
why taxes are due today instead of on April 15th.
And I don't care what it is. Because I can't be bothered to sort through it.
It just is.
Okay?
So you have until midnight...
And I don't care what it is. Because I can't be bothered to sort through it.
It just is.
Okay?
So you have until midnight...
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
An Ocean's Garbled Vomit on the Shore
Sometimes you just see something that makes you say "Ah, life's rich pageant."
In Los Angeles, this happens sometimes on an hourly basis.
And after a while, you get used to the absurdity of small dogs in baby carriages. Or self-important SUV drivers assuming they always have the right of way. Or the random rantings of the insane on the streets.
But it's nice to think L.A. can still shock me from time to time.
So the other day, I was feeling a bit low. And I went into a coffee shop where I saw a guy in a T-shirt and jeans drinking a five-dollar coffee drink.
And I watched him pinch his fingers together on his t-shirt, raise it up about six inches and then blow his nose on the inside of his shirt before letting it fall back down.
And then he did it again a minute later.
And suddenly, none of the problems in my life seemed all that important anymore...
In Los Angeles, this happens sometimes on an hourly basis.
And after a while, you get used to the absurdity of small dogs in baby carriages. Or self-important SUV drivers assuming they always have the right of way. Or the random rantings of the insane on the streets.
But it's nice to think L.A. can still shock me from time to time.
So the other day, I was feeling a bit low. And I went into a coffee shop where I saw a guy in a T-shirt and jeans drinking a five-dollar coffee drink.
And I watched him pinch his fingers together on his t-shirt, raise it up about six inches and then blow his nose on the inside of his shirt before letting it fall back down.
And then he did it again a minute later.
And suddenly, none of the problems in my life seemed all that important anymore...
Labels:
Decemberists
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Sprouts
I flew in and out of Brussels last year on the way to a wedding in Northern Germany.
This was only because flights were considerably cheaper in and out of there than they were in and out of Frankfurt. And the drive was only about 20 minutes longer.
Plus, with the new EU rules, going through Belgium, Holland, and Germany no longer means much. Instead of border crossings with armed guards and stops, there are now just simple signs (the same type you'd see if you're on a highway in the U.S. and pass from one state to the next).
On the way home, I had to wait in a horrible long line, which I assumed was for security.
It turns out, this was just the line for Passport Control. So you went through, showed your passport (and maybe your boarding pass, I can't remember) and then were sent out into what essentially is a gigantic mall.
To get to Security (which was a five minute walk from the start of the mall), you literally had to walk through about a dozen stores selling everything from lingerie to men's suits, to everything else. You weren't walking through a corridor with shops on either side. You were walking literally through the stores.
Security took almost no time (at least compared to the 45-minute wait at Passport Control) and only then was I off to the gates.
I told everyone at the time that I couldn't decide if it was evil or genius that you had to go through shops before even hitting security (where you and your bags were examined and X-rayed before you got to the planes).
I can't tell from the photos I've seen, but it seems likely to me that the recent attack on the airport in Belgium happened in the "mall" area between Passport Control and Security.
It was shocking to see the areas I'd walked through (relatively recently) all bombed out and blacked by fire and destruction.
This song first appeared in 1987 as one of the B-side demos on the 12-inch single for The Meeting Place. And while I've always been more partial to "Let's Make a Den," which is kind of the sweeter sibling of this song, I've found myself listening to this a lot this past week.
This was only because flights were considerably cheaper in and out of there than they were in and out of Frankfurt. And the drive was only about 20 minutes longer.
Plus, with the new EU rules, going through Belgium, Holland, and Germany no longer means much. Instead of border crossings with armed guards and stops, there are now just simple signs (the same type you'd see if you're on a highway in the U.S. and pass from one state to the next).
On the way home, I had to wait in a horrible long line, which I assumed was for security.
It turns out, this was just the line for Passport Control. So you went through, showed your passport (and maybe your boarding pass, I can't remember) and then were sent out into what essentially is a gigantic mall.
To get to Security (which was a five minute walk from the start of the mall), you literally had to walk through about a dozen stores selling everything from lingerie to men's suits, to everything else. You weren't walking through a corridor with shops on either side. You were walking literally through the stores.
Security took almost no time (at least compared to the 45-minute wait at Passport Control) and only then was I off to the gates.
I told everyone at the time that I couldn't decide if it was evil or genius that you had to go through shops before even hitting security (where you and your bags were examined and X-rayed before you got to the planes).
I can't tell from the photos I've seen, but it seems likely to me that the recent attack on the airport in Belgium happened in the "mall" area between Passport Control and Security.
It was shocking to see the areas I'd walked through (relatively recently) all bombed out and blacked by fire and destruction.
This song first appeared in 1987 as one of the B-side demos on the 12-inch single for The Meeting Place. And while I've always been more partial to "Let's Make a Den," which is kind of the sweeter sibling of this song, I've found myself listening to this a lot this past week.
Labels:
XTC
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Is It Awful
That this is my favorite Van Morrison song? (Asking for a friend...)
Labels:
Van Morrison
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Kind of Cool, Kind of a Mess
I have fond memories of this song from my childhood.
It hasn't aged well.
The verses are awkward.
But damn. That chorus.
And it doesn't even really go anywhere.
But... but.... yeah. Kind of like my teen years.
It hasn't aged well.
The verses are awkward.
But damn. That chorus.
And it doesn't even really go anywhere.
But... but.... yeah. Kind of like my teen years.
Labels:
The Sports
Monday, February 15, 2016
Monday, January 11, 2016
I've Heard A Rumor From Ground Control
Oh No, Don't Say it's True.
Fucking cancer.
Fucking cancer.
Labels:
David Bowie
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