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As the era of Classic Rock shrinks into the musical and cultural rear view mirror, it's been enlightening to see how the stars have dealt with aging. Led Zeppelin splintered and managed to produce some fairly interesting solo material. The Grateful Dead nearly faded away before their big Touch Of Gray resurgence. Then Jerry was gone. The Who made a few comeback attempts, but true fans knew that The Who without Keith Moon made little sense (though I've got to say that I saw Pete Townshend play Who music with Zack Starkey on the drums...it was frightening). The Rolling Stones get older & craggier every year, but refuse to give up. Some say that they've become caricatures of themselves. I say more power to 'em.Aerosmith? They were huge at one time ("Dream On" and "Walk This Way" were unavoidable...they still are!). Drugs and other ugliness broke them up for a while. Then came the Permanent Vacation-era 2nd life. It seems like they've hardly slowed down since.
In the middle of the Aerosmith 'strife years', guitarist Joe Perry formed the Joe Perry Project. When I brought Let The Music Do The Talking back to my dorm room, the sound my ear parts were expecting was undoubtedly a combination of Toys In The Attic and Rocks. I was not disappointed. Perry's tense and powerful guitar was all over that record. Maybe the vocals weren't so hot, but I was there for the full-on guitar blasphemy. It was there.
Many years (and several Aerosmith lives) later, Perry comes up with a true solo record. Firmly ensconced in his home studio (the "Boneyard"), Joe is back to making 'the big noise'. Perry plays all instruments and sings all of the lead vocals. The only exceptions are the drums played by friend and co-producer Paul Caruso and the analog synth played by Chris Noise on "Pray For Me".
In direct contrast to the last few Aerosmith albums (Honkin' On Bobo excepted), Joe Perry has a much more stripped down sound. In fact, the "I'm gonna fill every last one of these here 128 tracks" phenomenon is completely avoided. It's funny, I was poking around in some of the Amazon reviews and one of them said something about how this record sounded like it was a home-recording kind of thing. Though the reviewer meant this in a not-too-nice way, I took it to mean that Perry had touched a nerve. Yes, it's raw. Isn't that what rock & roll should be about?
The idea that aging rock stars should trundle off quietly into retirement is crushed to a pulp by this collection of songs. "Shakin' My Cage" comes cranking out of the gate with a severe combination of classic rhythm mayhem, momentum-inducing slide guitar and twisty solo work. Far from being a one-dimensional "guitar player's" record, Joe Perry shows off Joe's huge guitar sonics palette: from skidding metallic solos to low-down chunky rhythm guitar to gently-strummed acoustic to chiming artificial harmonics.
The songs themselves are similarly varied with flat-out rockers ("Shakin' My Cage", "Lonely"), swaggering blues ("Talk Talkin'"), spacey instrumentals ("Twilight"), country-inflected soul ("Ten Years", on which Joe's voice manages to sound like Warren Zevon) and the Indian-influenced "Pray For Me", driven along by a very cool analog synth part.
The cover of the Doors' "Crystal Ship"? The bits of backward guitar are nice, as is the spacey guitar solo. As the tune began, I was pretty skeptical. Do we really need a cover of this? Probably not, but Perry's surprisingly good (on the DVD-side of this disc, Perry admits to oversinging some in the Joe Perry project...here he seems much more relaxed) vocals and that guitar stew were just too good to pass up. Even if you're not sold on Ship, you'll be won over by the surprise of the record: a blistering rendition of Woody Guthrie's "Vigilante Man". Perry starts with a huge dose of volcanic slide guitar and proceeds to blow the doors out from there. I don't know if Woody would have appreciated all of the volume, but I had a good time.
People have been arguing that Aerosmith has been "washed up" for years, if not decades. That's debatable. But what seems clear is that it's looking like Joe Perry's just getting started.
Today I'm here to wish a happy belated birthday to the late great Miles Davis.Miles put out so many great and groundbreaking recordings that it's tough to pick a 'best'. Heck, you have to spend some time deciding on one of the genres first. Is it Hard Bop? Cool? Post-Bop? Modal? Fusion? Funk?
Well, I'm not picking a 'best' as it's basically a useless exercise. The easy choice would be the seminal modal album Kind of Blue but, let's face it, rivers of text have been written on that particular record. Instead, I've chosen Dark Magus. I guess you could call it 'fusion', with the fused elements being jazz, rock and funk. This is frenetic and difficult stuff. It shows off Miles' talent for weaving his trumpet into the most dense soundscapes imaginable. It also shows off his incredible taste in bandmates: David Liebman (tenor and soprano), Azar Lawrence (tenor), Michael Henderson (bass), Al Foster (drums), James Mtume (percussion), and the heavy three guitar attack of Dominique Gaumont, Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey.
If Miles were alive yesterday, he would have turned 79 years old, and probably would still be annoying the crap outa the jazz traditionalists by wearing inappropriate gold lame outfits and blowing out equally 'inappropriate' skronkitudes.
We still miss ya, Miles.
Twiddle away the rest of the afternoon at the Church Sign Generator.
There's something inherently funny about a Captain Beefheart quote on a church sign.
Some of the most interesting musical experiments are conducted by members of the 'musical omnivore club'. Membership requirements usually involve some combination of wide-ranging tastes and a talent for "pre-hearing" the correct combinations. This is what I'd normally refer to as the "big ears" phenomenon.My favorite omnivores include Beck, who brews up big fun with funk, blues, soul and hip-hop, Adrian Belew (a guitarist equally at home playing snarling rock, chiming, Beatle-esque pop, and twisted, avant garde-isms), Bill Frisell (country, straight-ahead jazz, soundscapes and shattering noise) and David Byrne (pop, rock, funk and various Latin musics).
Jack Dangers is definitely in "the club". As the brain (and ears) behind Meat Beat Manifesto, Dangers has produced an extremely influential blend of industrial and hip-hop styles. He went on to lend his remixing and production skills to a wide range of projects with diverse group of artists including David Bowie, Tower of Power, Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode and, most recently, DJ Spooky and Dave Lombardo's Drums of Death.
Now Dangers brings Meat Beat Manifesto to Thirsty Ear's Blue Series. For At The Center, a decidedly modern and jazzy (emphasis on modern) lineup (Craig Taborn on keys, Dave King (from The Bad Plus) on drums and Peter Gordon on flute) is wrapped around Danger's post-industrial shadings (some folks have referred to what Dangers does as "sound-sculpting"....it kinda fits). The result is surprisingly cohesive despite playing around with tense ambiance on the one hand and pure funk on the other.
The funk comes on tracks such as "Blind", where Taborn's chromatic piano flies over a bass ostinato and King's syncopated drums and "Murita Cycles", which swings with a very sparse pulse held together with bits of snare work, Gordon's flute providing the color. Some of this stuff reminds me of Miles' Bitches Brew with a little less 'density'.
Soundscapes and tension-inducing moments are many, but the best bits come from the two tracks entitled "Want Ads One" and "Want Ads Two". Both feature a disembodied voice reading various types of want ad copy over the music. On "Want Ads One" the music kinda sounds like post-apocalyptic 2nd line rhythm section. On the latter, a more dark ambient sound takes over, with the ad copy ranging from funny to disturbing:
Or...
At The Center closes with Dangers in full-on soundscape mode. My kind of thing. "Graduation 1" has scrapey little metallic noises, detuned and plucked notes from the piano and one last bit of sampled voices. It's so good...and good for you.
Today, I cast my vote for Jack Dangers as president of the Musical Omnivore Club.
What the hell?!
So why does a person wake up and, after coffee, have a hankerin' for some Jerry Garcia? In my particular case, it's because of my recent addiction to satellite radio.We bought my mom a Sirius radio for mother's day. The boombox part of it is located in our kitchen. Every morning (over coffee) and every evening (during post dinner cleanup) I've been listening to channels like "Swing Street" (older jazz), "Hard Attack" (metal...nothing like a little Meshuga to wake you up in the morning (though neither TheWife nor TheStepkid#2 liked it)), "Chill" (electronica), "Underground Garage" (60's garage rock, this is Little Steven's channel) and "Jam On", the jam-band channel.
A couple of nights ago, I was listening to a show called "One More Saturday Night" on "Jam On". This is a Grateful Dead show hosted by ex-NBA player and uber-Dead fan Bill Walton. The guy sure knows his stuff. He had all sorts of information about particular shows, where to get concert recordings on-line and in general seemed to be in his element.
Then this morning that same channel pulled off a particularly cool seque: a version of Weather Report's "Birdland" done by the String Cheese Incident into Miles Davis' "So What" (from the classic Kind of Blue). Very nice.
One thing that this satellite radio's got me thinking about is how much the phenomenon is reminding me of FM radio way the heck back in the 70's. Not so much the content, but the fact that I'm sitting there periodically thinking "Whoa...that's a cool tune. Who is it?" Not counting college radio, I can't think of the last time that's happened to me while listening to today's shrivelled commercial radio.
Thanks to Walton and Sirius, I'm now back in one of my periodic Grateful Dead phases (and thus, today's highly recommended live Jerry Garcia Band disc).
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The Cure. Soft Cell. Gary Numan. Pet Shop Boys. The Human League. Erasure. Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark.New Order.
These were bands that, from the birth of 'New Wave' and beyond, I never really 'got'. This fact would come up in conversations with friends who were fans and the responses mostly gravitated toward a variation on "Oh...a little too dark for you?"
No. It's a little too nothing for me. Honestly, where some hear moodiness, gloom, melancholy, brooding, etc., I hear...well, nothing. There's no emotion there for me. The singers' voices transmit absolutely no emotional content. The words 'bored' or maybe 'disinterested' spring to mind. Can this have been their intent? I doubt it. For a while I began to wonder if maybe I was engaging in some musical xenophobia, what with all of those British accents (sorry Mr. Numan). That was ruled out though, as folks like Billy Bragg, Pete Townshend, Elvis Costello and Richard Thompson are fine counterexamples. Maybe it was the combination of the voices and the electronic nature of the music. That sort of works, except that there have been some recent (and non-electronic) groups that produce the emotional flat-line: Coldplay, Oasis, Morrisey.
Apparently, the question of why I like something is just as tough to answer as the opposite case.
So...when the latest New Order disc shows up, my first thought was that I'd probably give it a listen, confirm that things hadn't changed since the 80's (both for the band and my ears), and then file it away under 'N'.
Well, that's not what happened. One thing that may have changed is New Order's use of the electric guitar. Yes, a tasty guitar phrase or chord can make all the difference. In this case, it seems to add a pile of humanity to Waiting For The Sirens' Call.
Maybe I ignored the guitar on 'old' New Order, but here there is guitar all over the place. By 'all over the place', I don't mean Steve Vai-isms (many a flame-war has occurred over who is the 'best' guitarist, but the shredding style does nothing for me). Instead, it's the well-placed, chimey arpeggio (the verses of opening track "Who's Joe?", "Turn"), the chunky rhythm pattern ("Hey Now What You Doing"), the winding melody line that ghosts the vocals (the title track). It's not until I reach "Guilt Is A Useless Emotion" that things run a little flat (and a little more electronic). Still, redemption happens on "Working Overtime", which brings it with some seriously fun rhythm swagger.
Waiting For The Sirens' Call isn't going to make me reconsider my low rating of New Order's early era, but I'm certainly looking at this band in a new light. It'll be interesting to read reviews of New Order's fans who loved 'em way back when. Some folks have no patience for change. Others know that you can't be wearin' the same wardrobe for your entire life. Well...I mean, you can, but what fun would that be?
It's not movie-making, it's software!
Good fricken riddance.
A coupla weeks ago, during the daily session of pouring words and coffee into my head, I came across a New Yorker article on this indie band named Slint.Sasha Frere-Jones walks us through the short history of the band, the recent reunion tour and the record that defined them: Spiderland. Though I don't always agree with her, Frere-Jones does have way (I'll forgive her for employing one of those dreaded reviewerspeak things: "sui generis", which means either "unique, defining its own kind of thing" or "they should wash their hair more often", I forget which) with words, describing Spiderland:
The Saturday following that morning read, I found myself in the local record shop without my "look-for" list (In truth, the list is more conceptual than anything else. Somehow, I never get around to physically writing it out anymore). As luck/musical synchronicity would have it, Spiderland was sitting there right in front of one of the bins. Not one to mess with my musical karma, that CD just had to make the trip home.
Holy mother of busted guitar strings, this a great record. How the hell did I miss it? Soft guitar arpeggios, plucked harmonics, choppy and scabrous guitar, chords twisted out of shape and massive power chords. Their whole thing reminds me of a more rock and roll version of Godspeed Your Black Emperor. There are a few vocals on the record, but they're sort of whispered. Some would say that the lyrics are 'arty', maybe even 'pretentious'. I dunno. For me, they just add to the atmosphere.
Jones does say that Slint brought on a lot of imitators, Mogwai being the most prominent (which makes sense to me since the first time I heard Mogwai I thought it was Godspeed). One characteristic that all three of these bands share is the brilliant use of dynamics. The quiet parts allow tension to build...and when it releases, the heavy is heavy. Great stuff.
So Slint is now sitting atop the stack as my new favorite ear novelty. Man, when this happens is does remind me of when Mom & Dad would let me buy a new pair of sneakers, and every morning I'd get up and look forward to putting them on. So I guess this means that they've got something in common with PF Flyers.
This morning, Friday the 13th, seemed like an appropriate day to play some music for Jim Carruthers.Being the music addict, flaming liberal and loner that I am, I felt a certain kinship to the guy. But hell, as much as I think of myself as a music and culture vulture, the mad Canadian was able to run circles around me without one strained synapse. Plainly, he had lotsa fact 'n thoughts stuffed into that head of his. Maybe too many.
A few years ago, I picked up a book called Songs In The Key Of Z. Each chapter introduces us to a new 'outsider' musician. A musicial freak show. I ate it up. I'd heard of some of the more 'famous' people, like Harry Partch and Wesley Willis, but Jandek was new to me. The guy's story, what little there was of it, really got me to thinking. Here's this mysterious fellow, living somewhere near Houston, Texas, who's been putting out full-length records since the late seventies. For the longest time, there was almost no information on Jandek. A perfect summation can be found at Seth Tisue's Jandek Website:
Right, so after reading the book, I'm stoked as all getout to find a Jandek CD. One method would have been to contact him via the U.S. mail and send some money. That made me sorta uncomfortable (if you read the book, you'll see why). So I just waited. A while later, I stumbled on a whole pile of Jandek CDs during a vacation to the San Diego area (thank you Lou's Records!)
Whoa...the descriptions did not do the music justice (or maybe that's the other way around). It's sorta like what the Shaggs would have listened to for inspiration. The singing's bad, the playing's bad....but somehow, the whole thing is mesmerizing. Detuned acoustic and electric guitars, a thin, monotone voice. Dang, it's just plain creepy.
Eric Olsen posted a short entry on Jandek a few years ago. Jim Carruthers commented that he'd read of him, but had never seen even one record at any store. Too bad. I don't know what he would have thought of Jandek. He mighta even hated the stuff, but I bet his description would have made us laugh.
I only 'spoke' with Jim Caruthers a few times through email. He seemed like a very smart and genuine guy. His death has affected me more than I would have thought. It's a rough thing to see a truly sharp person (heck, any person, really) overwhelmed by the circumstances of this life. Conservatives hated him for his supposed 'anti-Ameican' stance, but they generally misread him. In other ways, I misread him as well...as I was shocked to hear of the manner of his death.
In the spirit of that thought, I'd like to share one of my favorite Carruthers comments. This was his (perfect) distillation of current political 'debate':
Thanks Jim.
Fans of pianist Bill Evans will probably bristle at the comparison here, but that was the first connection that popped into my head with The Ground. Well, go ahead and bristle away because label-mate Keith Jarrett and "new ager" Liz Story also came to mind.The term new age was wrapped in quotes because, even though everybody seems to know what it means, it has become both meaningful and empty - applied to multiple (and very different) musics. George Winston, new age? Sure. Alex DeGrassi? Yes. Liz Story? Of course. Will Ackerman? No doubt.
The problem is that the effort to force a categorization gives hollow results. Think about something like Keith Jarrett's improvised concerts. Jazz? Blues? Folk Song? New Age?
Yes.
So while Tord Gustavsen's trio lineup matches the classic jazz piano trio, the music breaks out of the jazz perimeter to encompass bits of other forms including blues, folk song and even the dreaded new age. The sharpest signals picked up by my ears was the muted soulfulness of Bill Evans and the lyricism of Keith Jarrett. Just below that is the playful music of a Liz Story and the folkiness of George Winston.
Gustavsen's band avoids flash, but impresses by relying on sensitivity and quick interplay. Drummer Jarle Vespedstad quietly paints counterrhythms to the leader's piano phrases using some tasty snare and cymbal work. The double-bass of Harald Johnsen, woody in the extreme (and I mean that in the best possible way!), never gets in the way and seems to lay the groundwork for the trio with phrases that foreshadow the piano to follow ("Reach Out And Touch" is a perfect example).
Gustavsen's piano style ranges from subtle romanticism ("Kneeling Down") to more modern shadings (the far too short "Interlude" fades with some gorgeous shifting block chords). Like his bandmates, flash is never considered as service to the melody and underlying theme takes top priority.
The Ground might not please listeners looking for an adrenaline wash of sound. It might not even please those expecting traditional jazz trio music. It's that indeterminate ground gluing several genres together. That's were interesting music thrives. It's here.
Back in Led Zeppelin's day, it was near to impossible to twist the radio dial (Yea, radios had dials back then...think of a radio dial as an ancient, manual hyperlink, without the internet or computers or any of that stuff. Wait, you don't know what a radio is?) and not stumble into airing number eight bazillion of either "Stairway To Heaven", "Black Dog" or "Whole Lotta Love". Most of us (well, the guys anyway) loved 'em. They were the rock and rolls godz of that era. We even got all slack-jawed at junk like the weird little mini-movies (excuse me, vignettes) that confused us in the middle of The Song Remains The Same and the tales of drugs, drink, sex and fish parts in Hammer of the Gods.But then a coupla things happened. Zeppelin put out In Through The Out Door, which we all said was cool but, in reality, in our bedrooms late at night with our obligatory Farrah Fawcett posters on the wall...well, we thought it was sorta dull. No spine-tingling shrieks from Plant, no snarling alpha-guitar from Page. OK, the multiple covers and the paper bag thing was cool. But "Hot Dog"? Yow. Then John Bonham died and Zeppelin, perhaps already making the slow fade, was gone.
A few years later, Robert Plant put out Pictures at Eleven, the first in a string of solo records. The music, while toned down in intensity from Zeppelin, shared the former band's eclecticism. Plant finally hit it big with Now And Zen, which contained a bunch of radio hits including "Ship Of Fools", "Tall Cool One" and "Heaven Knows" (with guest Jimmy Page on the latter two).
Then...I just plain forgot about Plant. He's been busy touring, producing more solo material and even getting back together with Page (Walking Into Clarksdale, which I think I bought used...but can't remember a thing about, except that I bought it used). God knows what I've been up to, but listening to Robert Plant (or at least keeping up with the new stuff) isn't on the list.
Yesterday I ventured into Tower Records for the first time in quite a number of years. I'd given up on 'em because their prices were just nuts. The last disc I bought from them was Pat Metheny's Imaginary Day, which was a Christmas present for a friend. On the last day before the holiday vacation I really, really, really needed a copy. The local Newbury Comics (whose idea of a well-stocked jazz section is ten copies of the latest Kenny G, one of Kind of Blue and something (anything!) by Diana Krall) didn't have it. So I braved the crazy-long line and shelled out the (gulp) $18.99. Never again. So as I'm skulking up and down the rows, I see the new Robert Plant CD, Mighty ReArranger. Hmmm, looks interesting. The day before I'd heard a teaser for an NPR interview with Plant. Something about African music. Sounds like Plant's still drilling down into the music of the rest of the planet.
Should I?
Why not?! In truth, what pushed me over the edge was the title of track #3: "Freedom Fries". Maybe there'll be some fun too, along with some interesting music.
Well, well, well...not only is Mighty ReArranger full of interesting music, it's just might be the best thing Plant has ever done in his solo career.
Maybe it's Plant's band, the Strange Sensation. All I know is that Plant has brought together just about every kind of sound, genre and texture he's ever used and made it all sound like like an effortless and cohesive whole.
Just check out the instrumentation supporting Plant's vocals (beside the usual bass, drums, guitar, keys): harmonica, Moog bass, bendir, tehardant and lap steel guitar. The acoustic touches, such as the percussion ostinato played on the Bendir on the opener "Another Tribe", give extra weight to the 'heavier', more traditional rock instruments. The mixing of genres follows suit. Blues, folk, rock, African and Eastern musics provide contrast to each other: a 'trick' common to many a Led Zeppelin song. The perfect example is "Tin Pan Valley", which begins with a mystical, repeating synth figure...which gives way to a verse augmented only by a simple snare/ride cymbal pattern and Plant's voice...but which explodes into a shattering chorus, with Plant shrieking and moaning the words "Like this.....". Ah, almost back to the 'good ole days'.
So many years after the fact, it's been fun to watch the evolution of the Zeppelin offshoot efforts. For my money, it's been Plant and John Paul Jones (check out The Thunderthief as well as Sporting Life (with Diamanda Galas!)) who have made the greatest stretches. With Mighty ReArranger, Plant has made a big musical statement. Some people wanted to die before they got old. Robert Plant shows us that the wheelchair is, hopefully, a long way off.
In truth, work has made me so tired lately that it's been tough to just go home and drool at night. (Yea, I know...poor fricken' baby.)
I mean, just a minute ago I received an email with the subject line: "Office XP - $60 girdle monumental".
C'mon, you know that's funny!
I bought a copy of Crumb this weekend, a documentary about R. Crumb.Whoa, what a weird little dude. What's amazing is that he's the most 'normal' one among his group of brother. Both Charles and Maxon were just out there. All brilliant, all disturbed.
Some musicians have the ability to transcend their physical talents to put on display their thought processes, a sort of direct conduit between the hands and that mysterious inner pool of music.Or...in Keith Jarrett's case, the lack of thought:
This reminds me of the Zen concept of 'watching thoughts form', something only those with very, very 'quiet minds' can accomplish.
A few minutes into Jarrett's Radiance and it becomes clear that his idea of 'no ideas' has payed off in unexpected ways. The first improvised concert album since 1997's La Scala (part of an unofficial series stretching all the way back to Solo Concerts, Bremen/Lausanne (1973) and including the titanic Sun Bear Concerts and the reference standard: The Koln Concert), Radiance has Jarrett striking chords and phrases, following them with their 'natural' complements. At first, it's an almost shocking development as there appears to be no underlying motivic structure. There's also none (well..not none, but much less) of the usual romantic exploration of themes.
Best of all: it works.
Despite the seeming 'randomness', Radiance, after a fashion, coalesces into a warm, shimmering whole. It's romanticism becomes clear as you sense Jarrett's loving connection to music as he cleaves to the moment.
After a few passes through, I came down with a severe case of deja vu and tip-of-the-tongue (or is that 'ear'?) What aural memory dust had been displaced? Turns out it was an old bookstore that I used to frequent. The usual thing: brick walls, sleeping cat stretched out in the front window, pine shelving stretching all the way to the ceiling. But it was the classical music playing. Solo piano of undetermined heritage. Since I was more fixated on my book search, the music faded in and out of my attention field. So what I experienced musically was discrete bits of sound, sort of connected, sort of not. By the time I made it to the checkout the chunks of music came together in a subliminal way. This is very similar to my 'digestion' of Radiance. Given a chance, this music does make beautiful sense.
Keith Jarrett provides a counter-example to the idea that artists fade away as they age. This release ranks right up there as one of the finest of Jarrett's career.
This coming Sunday is Keith Jarrett's 60th birthday. Interested listeners can check out Sara Fishko 2003 interview "An Hour With Keith Jarrett, which will be rebroadcast on WNYC (93.0 FM) at 6PM EDT. The interview is also available at WNYC's website.
I'm on the verge of making a big decision (in fact, I think I've already made it...but shhhh, don't tell me!). I can't really say what it is yet. And, hoooboy, it's got me nervous and somewhat ill. You know how it feels, with stomach all a-burbly and stuff. No fun at all.So this morning I'm sitting kinda slack-jawed in front of the CD rack, trying to find something to mirror the scattershot thoughts pinging around in my head. Normally, I'd try to listen to some calming-type music...but I fear that'd be wasted time. Nothing is going to provide calm.
So here instead is John Zorn's More News For Lulu. This is a Zorn trio with George Lewis on trombone and Bill Frisell on guitar. The material is more-or-less bebop, but with a bunch of unexpected twists. At some points, the trio plays things fairly close to the vest. At other times, players veer off into skronk-land. Frisell in particular plays both ends of the scale. An almost Jim Hall-ish single-line to full-on Frisellazoidisms. This stuff perfectly simulates my current state of mind.
Oh, and the record is out of print (thanks Hat Art!) which raises other delicious parallels.
I coulda sat there and watched all day.
This is what amounts to a 'news' story these days? That and the Michael Jackson trial?
Sigh...
I mean, I had a week off and the time passed in two (OK, maybe three) blinks of an eye. Hell, I've had single work days that seemed longer. Ah well, at least I was able to pour a buncha reading into my head.
