Drugs and Rock ‘n Roll
First things first: While writing that last entry, I was quite one with the painkillers. After the surgery-thang, I was at my friend’s house, and spent a good thirty seconds or five minutes or half-hour, staring at the design he’d painted on his wall.
Then we decided to watch Broken Flowers, which I was very excited to see. We sat in front of the television, hit "Play," and ten minutes in, without one yawn or warning of any other sort, my body announced Sleep Was Here, and out I went, 80-years-old fifty years early.
And in other news.
The Boom-Shacka-lacka hath hit on the new Silver Jews album. That’s the band whose lyrics get the tagline at the top of the page, there. I wasn’t really fond of Tanglewood Numbers when I first got it. It felt uneven, and it wasn’t as countrified and dry and lonely as I’m used to with this band. But I’d already bought tickets to see them play live in Athens in March. So, fourteen dollars. Plus a two hour drive each way. And, well, Athens. And I’ve had nothing but terrible, terrible concert experiences in Athens. And yet I persevere. So I figured, as long as I’m persevering, I might as well go whole-hog: So I stuck it in my portable cd player that I attach to the tape player in my Civic, and I listened to it on the way home from work. And again, the next day. And again, that night, going out to wherever I was going. I made myself listen to it again and again, hoping the first song to have struck me through, a creepy number called “The Farmer’s Hotel,” would lead me to affection for the album’s other tunes. And sure enough, after just a few days of this Eat-It-and-You’ll-Like-It approach, it worked, suddenly, all at once. I was walking out to my car, and found myself humming the song “K-Hole,” the one with my favorite lyric, sung so tunelessly and true: “I’d rather live in a tra-ash can/ than see you happy with another man.” So, there ya go. I freaking love this album. The first song on there, “Punks in the Beerlight,” is like, a joke about earnest 80s rock. But it’s beautiful because it’s not a joke; it’s straight-ahead; it’s love and it sweeps me up and away. Then there’s, well, see, there’s a song with the title, “Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed.” You have to end up liking this song; I tell you, Henshaw. Unless you don't, in which case I can't help you.
First things first: While writing that last entry, I was quite one with the painkillers. After the surgery-thang, I was at my friend’s house, and spent a good thirty seconds or five minutes or half-hour, staring at the design he’d painted on his wall.
Then we decided to watch Broken Flowers, which I was very excited to see. We sat in front of the television, hit "Play," and ten minutes in, without one yawn or warning of any other sort, my body announced Sleep Was Here, and out I went, 80-years-old fifty years early.
And in other news.
The Boom-Shacka-lacka hath hit on the new Silver Jews album. That’s the band whose lyrics get the tagline at the top of the page, there. I wasn’t really fond of Tanglewood Numbers when I first got it. It felt uneven, and it wasn’t as countrified and dry and lonely as I’m used to with this band. But I’d already bought tickets to see them play live in Athens in March. So, fourteen dollars. Plus a two hour drive each way. And, well, Athens. And I’ve had nothing but terrible, terrible concert experiences in Athens. And yet I persevere. So I figured, as long as I’m persevering, I might as well go whole-hog: So I stuck it in my portable cd player that I attach to the tape player in my Civic, and I listened to it on the way home from work. And again, the next day. And again, that night, going out to wherever I was going. I made myself listen to it again and again, hoping the first song to have struck me through, a creepy number called “The Farmer’s Hotel,” would lead me to affection for the album’s other tunes. And sure enough, after just a few days of this Eat-It-and-You’ll-Like-It approach, it worked, suddenly, all at once. I was walking out to my car, and found myself humming the song “K-Hole,” the one with my favorite lyric, sung so tunelessly and true: “I’d rather live in a tra-ash can/ than see you happy with another man.” So, there ya go. I freaking love this album. The first song on there, “Punks in the Beerlight,” is like, a joke about earnest 80s rock. But it’s beautiful because it’s not a joke; it’s straight-ahead; it’s love and it sweeps me up and away. Then there’s, well, see, there’s a song with the title, “Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed.” You have to end up liking this song; I tell you, Henshaw. Unless you don't, in which case I can't help you.
posted by Alice at 3:35 PM
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