Pete Lit

Albums start to finish

When I'm downloading from my record collection to my iPod, I rarely download albums in their entirety. Even though I've only tapped one-fifth of my iPod's storage capacity so far, I'm hesitant to download entire albums because, quite frankly, few of them are start-to-finish essential. Most of them have at most four or five tunes that I want to listen to regularly. The exceptions -those that are indeed start-to-finish essential and warrant a full download - are what I've come to realize are among my most cherished albums. And here they are:

Dumptruck, Positively
The Feelies, The Good Earth
Glenn Mercer, Wheels in Motion
The Hold Steady, Separation Sunday
Joel R.L. Phelps & the Downer Trio, 3
Joel R.L. Phelps & the Downer Trio, Warm Springs Night
Morphine, Cure For Pain
Morphine, The Night
Mark Sandman, Sandbox (disc one)
Sebadoh, Bakesale
Tom Waits, Orphans (disc two)
Yo La Tengo, Painful

Two anomolies in this list: Glenn Mercer and the Hold Steady, both of which I like but don't absolutely love. I have several other albums that will be downloaded in the entirety once I get around to it, including Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted, Lou Reed's New York, Silkworm's Libertine and R.E.M's Murmur. Also, this list doesn't include albums downloaded from iTunes, in which having the full album is inevitable - of the latter, there are two (the Minutemen's Double Nickels on the Dime and Tommy Stinson's Village Gorilla Head) that I would have downloaded in full from CD had I not gotten them from iTunes instead.

Critiquing New York

The "Review Revue" feature on KEXP's blog pulls an old record from the station's archives and transcribes the various comments on the record that the staffers have jotted down on the album cover over the years. The latest installment is of one of my favorite albums, Lou Reed's New York. Interesting commentary - plenty of love and plenty of hate, just as I'd expect to see in response to an often-polarizing artist like Reed. I have to agree with this one in particular: "Very few albums these days (1989) make you stop what you are doing & listen to the lyrics. This is one of them."

Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records

I just finished reading the terrific Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records, The Indie Label That Got Big and Stayed Small, by John Cook with Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance. It's a history, primarily oral, of Merge, the great indie from Chapel Hill, North Carolina which has brought out so many great albums - not just by Superchunk (McCaughan and Ballance's band) but also Neutral Milk Hotel, Magnetic Fields, Spoon, Arcade Fire and many others - over the past twenty years. Mac and Laura started Merge from nothing, from being merely a vehicle for releasing 7-inch singles by Superchunk (whose first three albums weren't even on Merge) and their obscure Chapel Hill friends to becoming one of the most important record labels around, indie or otherwise. It's truly inspiring to read how Mac and Laura have made Merge into a success completely on their own terms, simply by doing what they love and following their hearts. None of Merge's artists were brought on because of their hitmaking potential, but because they made great music that Mac and Laura wanted to bring to the world, and because of the great music and the label's passion and commitment to doing things the right way, some of Merge's albums became bonafide hits (Arcade Fire and Spoon in particular). As the physical album gives way to the digital delivery of MP3s, the book ends on a somewhat nervous note, as even Mac and Laura seem uncertain that Merge can continue to thrive in the post-CD age, but if anyone in the record industry can pull it off, it's them. I'll certainly be cheering for Merge, the little label that could - and can.

(Special thanks to John Kenyon at Things I'd Rather Be Doing for sending me the book.)

"She's doing her caressin' with a tiny Smith & Wesson"

Barbara Feldon singing "99." No further explanation necessary. Just savor.

Mark Sandman

I have no idea who Eugene Mirman is (I can't read his name without thinking it's actually "Ethel Merman") but I appreciate his appreciation for the Mark Sandman anthology Sandbox. One challenge I've had with my Morphine-inspired novel (still progressing, though in fits and starts) is having the protagonist be unaware of any of the Sandbox material (particularly on the wonderful first disc, which has no band credits but appears to be mostly Morphine), most of which remained commercially unreleased until after the novel's timeframe.

What I Listened To On My Way To (And From) Work Today (and Yesterday)

Latest in an occasional series...

Morphine, "Wishing Well"
Typically moody and lush, the kind of tune that Mark Sandman could practically toss off in his sleep back then.

Big Dipper, "Nowhere To Put My Love"
Previously unreleased track which escaped the major-label dungeon that ended Big Dipper's career, and finally surfaced on the great Supercluster anthology on Merge Records. Terrific song, one of several should-have-been-a-hit songs that the band had.

Tom Waits, "Little Drop of Poison"
Dark and eccentric tune which I can imagine being performed by the piano player in the bar scene of Shrek 2 (the character which, indeed, performed Waits' contribution to that soundtrack).

Smog, "I Feel Like the Mother of the World"
"...with two children fighting." Bill Callahan's being metaphorically opaque here, and I like it.

Billy Bragg, "Which Side Are You On"
Another pro-union rouser from the incomparable Bragg.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio, "Chaplin's Radiotelephone"
Uncharacteristically brisk tune from the fine but nearly forgotten album 3.

Death Cab For Cutie, "A Movie Script Ending"
Earlier Death Cab effort, when the band was still flying under the public radar and their songs were more simple than now.

Red Red Meat, "Gauze"
Bunny Gets Paid has to be the most unlikely album to get the deluxe-reissue treatment that I'm aware of. Terrific song - long, slow, langorous, indie-white-boy blues.

Yo La Tengo, "Pablo and Andrea"
Probably my favorite Yo La Tengo song - midtempo and gentle, with Georgia's lulling vocals yet also Ira's shimmering guitar work.

Pylon, "Crazy"
As discussed previously.

Gordon Gano and the Ryans, "The Man in the Sand"
Gano's voice has matured, but in doing so seems to have lost the boisterous whine that made it so distinctive back in the Violent Femmes glory days. I'd also rather hear the old acoustic guitars instead of the electric band here.

The Feelies, "Higher Ground"
Intricate, tight, controlled. Only Life isn't my favorite Feelies album - as it mostly abandoned the exhilirating guitar interplay of The Good Earth for a more conventional lead guitar/rythym guitar pairing - but is still a very good one overall.

The Feelies

At the Chicago Reader, Peter Margasak reflects on the Feelies, and in particular the reissue of their first two albums, Crazy Rythyms and The Good Earth. The latter is one of my favorite albums in my collection, and the former has been out of print for ages but is now ripe for my acquisition. I concur in particular with his praise for "Raised Eyebrows", which I taped from a public library copy of Crazy Rythyms during my mostly-broke grad school days, and still love all these years later.

Listening: "Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)"

Elliott Smith: Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)

Lovely cover of George Harrison's great song by the equally great Elliott Smith, from a 2001 San Francisco show. Harrison's lyrics are particularly moving as sung by Smith, who despite his artistic success lived a deeply troubled life. I suspect that Smith spent most of his years looking for love and peace on Earth, yet never really found either.

(Via Largehearted Boy.)

"Absolute Beginners"

If you're feeling a bit sluggish today, this video should get you going. I'm not sure what the Jam is running from here, unless it's a sly nod to A Hard Day's Night and the screaming hordes that pursued the Beatles. Though a nod like that would have made more sense if the band was running through American streets with nobody pursuing them - they barely made a dent in the U.S. - as opposed to England, where this clearly was filmed and where the band was huge during their heyday. It will forever remain a mystery to me why they never made it big here. It certainly wasn't the fault of their music, which remains as wonderful as ever, 25+ years later.

Bands of Brothers

The latest rift between Oasis' forever-sparring Gallagher brothers (I'm giving them about three weeks before they're back together) got me thinking...

A short and by no means comprehensive list of rock bands with brothers in them
Oasis (Liam and Noel Gallagher)
The Kinks (Ray and Dave Davies)
The Replacements (Tommy and Bob Stinson)
The Connells (Mike and David Connell)
Crowded House (Tim and Neil Finn)
The Allman Brothers (Greg and Duane Allman)
Scruffy the Cat (MacPaul and Burns Stanfield)
Dire Straits (Mark and David Knopfler)
Versus (Ed and Richard Balyut)
Meat Puppets (Curt and Cris Kirkwood)

Feel free to add your own in the comments!

Mike Watt

John Kenyon runs a nice interview with one of my musical heroes, Mike Watt.

New groups are about new musical situations, new places to learn from. I think it helps me keep relevant somehow, keeps the bass from being just a machine and a means to help me keep learning. The different musical situations are like different "classrooms" and I sincerely believe everyone has something to teach me. I'm trying to cram as much as I can in the amount of life I have left...I think about my life... I think, "I'm here to learn!"

Thirty years in the business, and he's still eager to learn. I really admire that.

The looming death of the major labels

The majors have been on life support for the last several years. Now a viable alternative business model appears to have risen, which just might finish off the majors for good.

Under the Polyphonic model, bands that receive investments from the firm will operate like start-up companies, recording their own music and choosing outside contractors to handle their publicity, merchandise and touring.

Instead of receiving an advance and then possibly reaping royalties later if they have a hit, musicians will share in all the profits from their music and touring. In another departure from tradition in the music business, they will also maintain ownership of their own copyrights and master recordings — meaning they and their heirs can keep earning money from their music.

Artists retaining ownership of their copyrights and masters is a particularly welcome development. I've never quite understood why major labels think little enough of certain albums that they let them go out of print, and yet still hoard the albums to themselves, not letting the rights revert to the artists who have an interest in releasing it themselves. One example is the Mekons' brilliant Rock & Roll, which was released by A&M in the late 1980s but flopped commercially (did A&M really think an idiosyncratic band like the Mekons could become a mainstream success?) then let it languish, keeping it out of print for over ten years before an independent label finally picked it up and re-released it. For years I owned only a worn cassette dub of the album (not wanting to pay a fortune for a less-than-pristine used copy of the original release) and only recently acquired the re-release - which in itself was superior to the original, as it included two good tracks from the original UK release that had been deleted from the original U.S. release.

I've always felt that labels should be allowed to retain album rights only if they keep it in print and readily available - if they let an album go out of print, the rights should immediately revert to the artist. And in this digital age, there's really no excuse for albums being out of print - the labels could easily make them available online (through iTunes or whatever) at little to no additional cost. All of which may become a moot point if the Polyphonic model takes hold. Here's hoping.

Maddie is a punk rocker

Move aside, Sheena. If any aspiring and very generous punk bands would like to provide free instrumental backing to her vocals, YouTube glory may be imminent.

"Political Song for Michael Jackson to Sing"

I'm honoring Michael Jackson's life the best way I know how to...by listening to the Minutemen.

Get well, Chris Knox!

New Zealand indie rock legend Chris Knox has had a serious stroke, which has left him temporarily without speech and potentially permanently unable to walk. Here's hoping for his quick and full recovery. If you're unfamiliar with Knox's music and need an example of its wonderfulness, check out the "Half Man/Half Mole" video above, from his 1995 album Songs of You and Me.

(Via Mac.)

Bassist Wanted

 

I've been greatly enjoying Porter Mason's indie rock webcomic Bassist Wanted for several months now, but never so much as today. Retro swing bubble indeed...we had a swing band play at our wedding reception (ten years ago this week) not because we were hipsters caught up in the trend of the moment, but because we genuinely hated wedding reception DJs. As it turns out, the band was great and kept everyone - old and young - dancing right up until closing time. Usually wedding reception DJs will play quieter stuff early on, but once they start rocking out the older generation either tunes out and retreats to the outer tables, or leaves entirely. But everybody loved the swing band, and even the oldsters didn't want to go home.

Incidentally, I also once owned Setzer's first swing band album, and it was truly terrible. One of the very worst records I've ever owned.

(Legal mumbo jumbo: All original content on PorterMason.com is © 2009 Porter Mason. Bassist Wanted by Porter Mason is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.)

What I Listened To On My Way To Work Today

The iPod shuffled up this interesting half-dozen for my walk from the train to the office.

Mark Sandman, "Devil's Boots"
This song (from the posthumous Sandman box set Sandbox) is noteworthy for its lack of the bass guitar for which Sandman was so famous. Instead he plays simple piano chords, accompanied as always by Dana Colley on sax. The final Morphine album The Night had quite a bit of piano instead of bass, one of many tantalizingly hints of the new musical direction the band was beginning to explore when Sandman suddenly passed away. This July will make it ten years since Sandman died. I can't believe he's been gone that long.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio, "Ave Patricia"
The first post-Silkworm Phelps song I ever heard, from a CMJ magazine sampler disc circa 1993, one which intrigued me just enough to hunt down his solo debut, Warm Springs Night, which was hard to find even back in the nineties and has now been out of print for ages. Loved the album then, and still do today, both for its music and that it introduced me to the rest of Phelps' solo work which I've found endlessly rewarding.

The Jam, "Man in the Corner Shop"
I first dubbed this great song onto a cassette from public library CD checkout back in the early nineties (long before the home CD-ripping era) and for years longed to have it in digital format, though I could never quite take the plunge to buy the whole disc. And for some reason the Jam is criminally underrepresented on iTunes, with just a few compilation albums available and none of the band's regular releases (including Sound Affects, where this one first appeared), so even with iTunes I had to do without. But there I recently and blissfully stumbled across what I believe is an extended version of the old Snap! band compilation, which included this tune. And now it's mine, for which I'm extremely pleased.

The Replacements, "Sixteen Blue"
Set this gentle remembrance of teenage life next to the raucous "Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out" (both from the seminal Let It Be) and you'll see what made the Replacements so great: from wistful tenderness to balls-out rock and roll.

The Hold Steady, "Don't Let Me Explode"
My most recent band discovery, courtesy of the estimable Ben Tanzer.

Lou Reed, "Set the Twilight Reeling (Live)"
Interesting that the iPod cued up this one right after the Hold Steady, given that the latter's Craig Finn owes a lot of his vocal delivery to the sing-speak of Lou Reed.

Farewell, Jay Bennett

Sad news. Former Wilco guitarist and Champaign-Urbana mainstay Jay Bennett has passed away, at the age of just 45. Titanic Love Affair was pretty big in Champaign while I was in grad school there ("Poster" is careening through my memory right now) and I had followed him off and on over the years. And as if that news wasn't enough, Greg Kot's blog post that I linked to above saddens me even further, as it briefly mentions a show yesterday that included the Poster Children, the Outnumbered and Lonely Trailer, Chambana musical gods all. Incredibly sorry I missed that one.

Chin Up Chin Up, we hardly knew ye

One of Chicago's most interesting indie rock bands calls it a day. It just occurred to me that I don't have any Chin Up Chin Up tunes on my new(ish) iPod, after greatly enjoying the half-dozen tracks which are now trapped on my old iPod thanks to its dying (now likely dead) battery. I intend to rectify this shortcoming shortly.

Listening: "Crazy"

Pylon: Crazy
R.E.M.: Crazy

Two versions of the same song - Pylon's original and R.E.M.'s cover, both from way back in the early 1980s. I only know two Pylon songs (this one and "Look Alive", which I dubbed years ago off a college radio station broadcas) but on the strength of "Crazy" I think I'll dive into the band much further.

I probably wouldn't have ever heard Pylon at all were it not for the strong R.E.M. cover, which appeared on their early odds-and-ends LP Dead Letter Office. Both bands were from Athens, Georgia, and Michael Stipe's liner notes to Dead Letter Office relate how blown away he was by the first Pylon record, which made him relatively disappointed in his own band's first record (he didn't specify whether he meant R.E.M.'s first single, "Radio Free Europe", or their debut EP, Chronic Town). His disappointment in either of those great records is hard to comprehend, though it speaks very well for Pylon. Incidentally, please consider this a belated shout-out/buy-it recommendation for Dead Letter Office, the CD version of which also includes all of Chronic Town. Dead Letter Office is an oddball gem - besides "Crazy", there's three Velvet Underground covers, "Voice of Harold" (the instrumental backing of "Seven Chinese Brothers" recast with extemporaneous Stipe lyrics of him reading the liner notes to some gospel record), Aerosmith's "Toys in the Attic" (which the band liked well enough to play regularly in concert back in the early days), the band's drily funny "Bandwagon" (which surely deserved to be included on one of their regular album releases) and "Walter's Theme", a promo that they cut for a radio commercial for a BBQ joint, along with a bunch of other tunes that didn't make the regular-release cut but are still quite enjoyable. If you're a fan of early R.E.M., you really should have already heard and loved Dead Letter Office, but in case not, trust me when I say you will not be disappointed in this record.<br>

Listening: The Bats

The Bats: Afternoon in Bed

This Tall Dwarfs video got me remembering my old appreciation for Kiwi bands (that band, plus both Chris Knox and Alec Bathgate solo, the Clean, etc.) and inevitably lead me to Songza, which unfortunately didn't have any of the Tall Dwarfs tunes I was familiar with. But they did have this gem by the Bats, an offshoot of the Clean. Can't elaborate much on it, other than remembering hearing it a few times on Chicago's late, lamented WCBR (the city's last attempt at eclectic commercial rock radio) during the mid 1990s.

"Mourning What We Thought Was Already Dead"

Carrie Brownstein (of Sleater-Kinney and NPR's Monitor Mix blog) reflects on the demise of BMG Music Service.

Back in the day, in the middle of something like Parade Magazine in your local Sunday paper, there would be an ad for 12 CDs for the price of one. You would pick out your free CDs and then promise, at some point within the next year, to make an actual purchase. But, let's be honest, the whole paying-for-the-music part of it never quite happened for a lot of people.

Therefore, BMG's music service was - for many of us - our first foray into mail fraud, scams and thievery. There were a few options for obtaining the free portion of the deal without ever fulfilling your end of the bargain.

Like Brownstein, I was once in the club but had no idea it was still around. But unlike her, I was never really tempted to scam BMG out of more CDs than I deserved, probably because the selection wasn't particularly extensive and I rarely hankered after more of their offerings than I could afford. But still, plenty of my favorite albums of the 1980s came from BMG, all of which I still listen to today: Lou Reed's New York, Bob Mould's Workbook, the Neville Brothers' Yellow Moon, House of Freaks' Tantilla, Treat Her Right's eponymous debut. True, I did pick up some dreck (gawd, was I ever disappointed in the Replacements' Dont Tell A Soul) but even the dreck earned me cash when I later sold it on eBay, so overall BMG was a good experience for me.

The Sea and Cake Cash In

Chicago indie rock mainstays The Sea and Cake (I still love their second album, Nassau, which is now pushing fifteen years on my shelf) have struck it rich, or struck it semi-rich, or at the very least can now afford a higher quality level of libations, as they've licensed their tune "Jacking the Ball" to Citibank. I hope the band cashed the check quickly, before it had a chance to bounce. Because even given the highly tenuous world of indie rock, they still probably have better long-term viability than the bank: The Sea and Cake will still be around in five years; Citibank, doubtful.

"The sound of ideologies clashing"

Wise words from one of my favorite bards, Billy Bragg:

Outside the patient millions
Who put them into power
Expect a little more back for their taxes
Like school books, beds in hospitals
And peace in our bloody time
But all they get is old men grinding axes

Far too many old men grinding far too many axes in Washington this week. For the good of the country, those patient millions, I hope those in power set aside all of the rhetoric and the posturing and get this stimulus bill passed. We need it.

What I Listened To On My Way To Work Today

Interesting random playlist served up by my iPod for this morning's walk from the train to the office...

Pavement, "Shady Lane (Krossfader)"
Having never heard the album version of "Shady Lane", I've never been quite sure if this release (Shady Lane) is a single with bonus tracks or just a good old-fashioned EP. (The former would apply if this version and the album version are the same, the latter if not.) Regardless, this is a nice bouncy bit of mid-period Pavement.

Bottomless Pit, "The Cardinal Movements"
Tim Midgett and Andy Cohen of Silkworm "get it in their minds to live again" and regroup after the death of drummer Michael Dahlquist, with intriguing results. If I had a few more dollars of credit on my iTunes account this past weekend, I would have bought Hammer of the Gods, the debut album that this song leads off. And I'll still probably do so soon.

The Replacements, "Lovelines"
What a hoot - Paul Westerberg (supposedly) reading directly from the personals ads to the jazzy, rollicking musical accompaniment of the rest of the band. But the lines are almost too perfect to actually be from random ads, and instead sound a lot like Westerberg originals. If anyone can confirm or deny, please let me know.

Dumptruck, "Perspective"
The closer to the band's debut, D Is For Dumptruck, when they had not quite yet hit their stride. In fact, they weren't quite a band yet at all - just Kirk Swan, Seth Tiven and hired drummers. They weren't formally a band until their next release, Positively (one of my very favorites), after Steve Michener and Shawn Devlin joined in.

The Halo Benders, "Canned Oxygen"
One of oddest and best cross-collaborations I've come across - Built to Spill's Doug Martsch and Beat Happening's Calvin Johnson, plus a couple of others. Martsch gains from Johnson's lighthearted goofiness, while Johnson gains from Martsch's formidable musical chops. And in quite idiosyncratic fashion, they both sing at the same time, but never the same words. Hard to believe, but it actually works.

Good tune, good cause

I'm posting a link to Neko Case's new single "People Got a Lotta Nerve" not so much because it's a good song (which it is, but there are oodles of good songs out there that I never formally acknowledge here) but because there's a good cause involved. For every blog that links to the song, Case and her record label ANTI- (one of my faves) will donate $5 to the Best Friends Animal Society, a major animal rescue organization. I'm a great animal lover - we have two cats now, and would likely have a vast menagerie of critters were it not for the cost and maintenance involved - and am often saddened to see cases of cruelty and neglect. I applaud what Case and ANTI- are doing here, and am very glad to help. If you're a blogger and want to join in, all the details are here.

Shatner recites "Rocketman"

No joke - this is William Shatner reciting the lyrics to Elton John's "Rocketman." I saw this when it was first broadcast on live TV, and even to my innocent, gentle, naive, twelve- or thirteen-year-old mind, I realized that WILLIAM SHATNER IS BATSHIT INSANE.

(Via The Rumpus.)

Just a thought

Almost two years ago I mused that the Pogues' Shane MacGowan didn't appear to be aging well, as evidenced by this photo. But now, after seeing the Uncle Fester-like photos of Boy George in the news this week, I've decided, in terms of 1980s British music icons and how well-preserved they are, that Shane is positively Dick Clark in comparison. And I'm guessing prison won't be kind to "Boy" either.

"Fairytale of New York"

It was Christmas Eve, babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me
'Won't see another one'
And then he sang a song
'The Rare Old Mountain Dew'
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
It's years for me and you
So Happy Christmas
I love you, baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind blows right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me Broadway
Was waiting for me

You were handsome

You were pretty
Queen of New York City

When the band finished playing
We howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging
All the drunks, they were singing
We kissed on the corner
And danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day

You're a bum, you're a punk

You're an old slut on junk
Laying there almost dead
With a drip on that bed

You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas, your arse
I pray God it's our last

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day

I could have been someone

But so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you

I kept them with me, babe
And put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I built my world around you

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day

-Words by Shane MacGowan and Jem Finer
-Vocals by Shane MacGowan and Kirsty McColl
-Music by the Pogues

What I Listened to On My Way to Work Today

With yet another nod to GE, here's what my iPod's shuffle play served up this morning.

The Decemberists - Here I Dreamed I Was an Architect
Listening to the uber-literate Decemberists might not be the smartest thing to do while reading somebody else's story manuscript, which is exactly what I did this morning. Here's hoping said writer wasn't unfairly slighted by my assessment.

Dumptruck - Alive
Dumptruck - Make a Move
Sometimes I wonder about just how random the iPod's shuffle play is. I only have one Dumptruck album (D Is For Dumptruck) loaded on my iPod, and yet it "randomly" picked three songs from it this morning.

Tommy Stinson - Bite Your Tongue
As I've mentioned here before, Village Gorilla Head, the first official solo album Replacements enfant terrible Tommy Stinson, was one of my most pleasant surprises of 2004 - or any other musical year. High quality, almost shockingly mature, and kicks the ass of pretty much everything Paul Westerberg has created since the Mats broke up.

Morphine - Lisa
A little segue tune, consisting almost entirely of Dana Colley's saxophone noodlings.

Pavement - Rattled By the Rush
For some reason Pavement really lost me after Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. This song didn't engage me either. Hearing this song - good, but nothing earth-shattering - reminds me that I really need to finally load up Slanted and Enchanted.

Tom Waits - Fannin Street
Tom Waits - You Can Never Hold Back Spring
Both of these are from the wonderful Orphans, the second being one of my favorite Waits tunes from the very first time I ever heard it.

Lou Reed - Caroline Says
A bleak song from what a recent live recording of what has been described as one of the bleakest albums ever (Berlin), Reed absolutely nails this one. His voice has really aged nicely over the years, maturing and deepening in tone - yes, of course he's still talk-singing and can't (or won't) hit all the notes, but it's still one of the most expressive voices in rock and roll.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio - My Mother the Mountain
Phelps is apparently a big Townes Van Zandt fan - both this song (from Phelps' Inland Empires) and "Flying Shoes" (from the bonus EP that came with his latest, Customs) are Van Zandt covers.

R.E.M. - The Wrong Child
A really weird song for the band - no drums, multitracked Stipe vocals, mandolin and piano and some odd sort of keyboard. And that's not even considering the lyrics, which are told from the perspective of a handicapped child whose life experiences are limited to watching, through the window, as other children play outside, and yet quietly accepts it all ("I'm not supposed to be like this/But it's okay"). Certainly a courageous song - nobody else was writing songs like this in 1989.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio - There Is Not Enough
Probably the most listener-challenging song on Phelps' solo debut, Warm Springs Night, as most of his vocal idiosyncracies come out in full force. But still affecting.

Bob Mould - See a Little Light
Still my favorite Mould song, post-Husker Du anyway.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio - Chaplain's Radiotelephone
The zippiest Phelps song I've heard. He's a master at slow-to-midtempo tunes, but this one works for me too. Hell, just about anything Phelps creates works for me.

The Feelies - Tomorrow Today
Strangely, both "There Is Not Enough" and "Tomorrow Today" (from two artists who have little in common musically) are majestic songs with martial beats which appear as the second-to-last song on their respective albums. Not sure what any of that implies, just saying.

Dumptruck - Watch Her Fall
Yet another song from that same Dumptruck album, and a very good one.

Ein Heit - Summer
Ein Heit was the predecessor band to Silkworm from their Missoula days, when they worked with the mysterious JK Manlove. In 1997, Joel Phelps briefly reunited with his Silkworm mates (Midgett, Cohen, Dahlquist) to hook up again with Manlove and create a new Ein Heit album, The Lightning & The Sun, which was recently re-released by Comedy Minus One. Fans of early Silkworm will love this one.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio - Apology Accepted
This tune (also from Inland Empires) is a Go-Betweens cover. If it seems like my iPod songlist is limited in variety, I'd have to agree. I just got the new iPod in September and have only slowly been loading new songs onto it. Getting there, though - at one time, half the songs on it were from Tom Waits' Orphans.

Mark Sandman - Jealous Dream
Sandman's old friends did a lovely job putting together Sandbox, their posthumous compilation tribute to the man and his music. One of the nicest touches was naming the artist on each song as "Mark Sandman", even though they were clearly the work of various bands he worked with over the years, Morphine and Treat Her Right being of course the most prominent. "Jealous Dream" is clearly by Morphine, a somber tune that would have fit in pretty well on Good or The Night.

Ted Leo & the Pharmacists - Sons of Cain
This rabble-rouser of a song was just ending as I arrived at my desk. If anything can get my blood flowing and make me at least halfway functional at work on a Monday morning, it's Ted Leo. Bless his soul.

Song of the Week: Death Cab For Cutie

Death Cab For Cutie: Grapevine Fires

This one's for Maddie - her favorite song. She got an off-brand MP3 player for Christmas last year, but it took us until mid-year to figure out the PC interface it used, just about the same time that we picked up the new Death Cab For Cutie album, Narrow Stairs. She loved the album so much that she wanted to hear it in the car all the time, so instead we put a bunch of DCFC tunes on her MP3 player. There's nothing cuter than seeing her walk around the house with her headphones on, singing along to the song quietly, almost to herself.

Six-year-old plays "Crazy Train"

Clearly, the future of our society is in very good hands.

(Via WFMU.)

Song of the Week: Otis Redding

Otis Redding: Try A Little Tenderness

Wow, wow, WOW. There's not much to say about this song that Redding hasn't already imparted on a gut, visceral, unspoken level through the song itself, so I'll leave the talking to him. Probably the greatest soul singer who ever lived. How utterly devastating for all of us, even after all these years, that he was taken away so soon.

If this at all whetted your appetite for more Otis Redding - and I can't see how it wouldn't, assuming you're still alive and breathing - then check out this Ready Steady Go! appearance from 1966. Damn.

R.E.M. believes...

...and so do I. From last Tuesday night's show in Santiago, Chile. (Via Stereogum.)

Song of the Week: Lee Dorsey

Lee Dorsey: Yes We Can

I won't say much about this song, as it pretty much speaks for itself. Regardless of Tuesday's decision, we all have to come together, find common ground, provide equality and opportunity for all of our citizens, and move this country forward. Yes we can.

Okay, a bit about the song. Lee Dorsey was a great New Orleans soul singer, best known for "Sneaking Sally Through the Alley", "Workin' in a Coal Mine" and "Ya Ya", and worked closely with the legendary Allen Touissant, who wrote the lyrics to "Yes We Can" and so many other Cresecent City classics. Here are the lyrics...please remember them as you vote this week.

Now is the time for all good men
To get together with one another
Iron out their problems
And iron out their quarrels
And try to live as brothers
And try to find the peace within
Without stepping on one another
And do respect the women of the world
Just remember we all have mothers

Make this land a better land
Than the world in which we live
And help each man be a better man
With the kindness that you give

I know we can make it
I know darn well we can work it out
Oh yes we can, I know we can
Yes we can, why can't we if we wanna
I know we can make it work
I know we can make it if we try

Take care of the children
The children of the world
They're our strongest hope for the future
The little bitty boys and girls

Make this land a better land
Than the world in which we live

Get together, get together now

What I Listened To While I Raked Yesterday

With a heavy nod to GE, here's my playlist from yesterday's leaf-raking. I specifically selected the first song (which I purchased earlier in the day) but all the rest are from random shuffle play.

Morrissey: "We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful"
I was never much of a Morrissey fan in the day - the relentless woe-is-me misery always put me off - but I'm developing a late appreciation for his music. This song even makes a brief appearance in my novel Wheatyard, so I figured I should finally own it. (from Your Arsenal)

Scruffy the Cat: "Ticket to Ride"
Great live cover of the Beatles classic from one of my alltime favorite bands. (Live recording at Newbury Sound)

Ted Leo: "The High Party"
Solo version of the great song from Hearts of Oak which proves Leo could easily become a successful subway busker if the economy really tanks. (from the Balgeary EP)

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio: "Hope's Hit"
One of my favorites from this particular album, whose lyric "as blown as the barflies" directly inspired one of my microfiction pieces. (from 3)

R.E.M.: "Gardening at Night"
In many ways R.E.M. never really topped their first three records, of which this EP was the first. Timeless. (from Chronic Town)

Pavement: "No Tan Lines"
A real hoot: "You will be my candy striper/Junior leaguer, bedpan wiper/Convalesence, enema essence/I live to be gray/I live to be gray!" (from the Shady Lane EP)

Morphine: "The Other Side"
Mystical and spooky, this is the very first Morphine song I ever heard, on Champaign's great WEFT circa 1992. (from Good)

Sebadoh: "Everybody Has Been Burned"
Though I'm a longtime fan of Sebadoh, I only just now heard this one for the first time, as Jason Behrends included it on the mix CD ("Where Were You in '92?") that he compiled and bundled with Ben Tanzer's latest novel. (from Smash Your Head on the Punk Rock)

Pavement: "Wanna Mess You Around"
Parental note: Malkmus never actually sings "mess", but instead a rather blunt word which begins with the letter F. Maybe as punk as Pavement ever got. (from the Shady Lane EP)

Lou Reed: "The Last Shot"
Reed's narrator finally gets clean, yet regrets not having exited dissolution with more of a bang. (from Legendary Hearts)

Ted Leo & the Pharmacists: "Come Baby Come"
Unlike most of Leo's extended jams, this one does not descend into dissonant anarchy. (from Treble in Trouble)

Tom Waits: "Never Let Go"
Considering I have the entire second disc ("Bawlers") of Orphans loaded up, it's surprising that shuffle didn't serve up Waits much earlier. This one's a beauty, quite majestic and lovely, sort of like "In the Neighborhood" as a love song. (from Orphans)

Tom Waits: "Danny Says"
A touching lament from a musician stuck out on the road. (from Orphans)

Bob Mould: "Heartbreak a Stranger"
The prettiest song on Workbook, and possibly the jangliest Mould has ever been. (from Workbook)

Tom Waits: "Young at Heart"
Shuffle play quickly makes up for lost time. One of two covers I'm aware of on the "Bawlers" disc (the other being a boozy "Goodnight Irene"). (from Orphans)

The Feelies: "The Good Earth"
Jangle rock at its very finest. (from The Good Earth)

Bob Mould: "The Silence Between Us"
More Mould, this one post-Sugar. Good stuff, though it seems he might never reach the musical heights (or emotional abyss) of Husker Du again. (from The District Line)

The Pixies: "Where Is My Mind?"
Another one from Jason Behrends. I'm quite glad to have this one in its entirety; years ago a friend made me a tape of the Matter of Degrees soundtrack, and "Where Is My Mind" was the last one on the side, and the tape sadly ran out before the song ended. So I had never heard the complete song before. (from Surfer Rosa)

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio: "Give Me Back My Animal"
Another lovely song from a very fine album: "this year winter's come with autumn missing." (from 3)

This week in punk derivatives

Since I can't download or access streaming media at the office, I've accumulated these links throughout the week for Saturday morning listening/viewing, without realizing until just now that they're all punk-related:

+ An excerpt from the infamous hardcore punk episode of Quincy, in which the title character memorably and clumsily ponders "Why would you listen to music that makes you hate, when you can listen to music that makes you love?" (Via Boing Boing.)

+ Four folk covers of the Clash's "Straight to Hell", by Josh Rouse, Amy Loftus and Will Kimbrough, Emm Gryner and Steve Ketchen & the Kensington Hillbillies. (Via Boing Boing.)

+ Ben Kingsley as Ian MacKaye, performing "Minor Threat." From Gandhi to MacKaye - now that's what I call dramatic range. (Via Coudal.)

Eerie

During the past week I've been listening to the Mekons' Original Sin (their legendary Fear and Whiskey plus EP tracks from the same period) in the car, driving to and from the train station. When I got home on Monday I thought about taking the CD inside and switching it for something else for my brief drivetime, but decided against it. On my drive home last night I suddenly obsessed on the Mekons' cover of Hank Williams' "Lost Highway", listening to it three or four times and deciding it might be the genesis of a new short story for me, and before bed I paged through Peter Guralnick's chapter (in the aptly-titled Lost Highway: Journeys and Arrivals of American Musicians) on Hank Jr., looking for some insight into Hank's life and hopefully some writerly inspiration.

And just moments ago I blissfully discovered that today would have been Hank's 85th birthday.

Weird, huh? Though I have no idea what form it might take, it's almost as if this story is simply meant to be.

Bob Mould, Author? Yes, Author!

I once pondered the possibility of a book by one of my biggest rock heroes, Bob Mould. Looks like my wishes will come true:

AMERICAN PUNK HERO BOB MOULD TO PUBLISH HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY

And he couldn't have picked a better collaborator than Michael Azerrad. Looking forward to October 2010.

Song of the Week: The Spinanes

The Spinanes: Sunday

This week, during my drives to and from the train station, I renewed acquaintances with The Spinanes. Although two-person rock bands are pretty common these days, the Spinanes were fairly unique to their mid-1990s era, and especially to their home city (Seattle) and record label (Sub Pop), both of which were the epicenter of grunge. Though their music had definite punk overtones, Rebecca Gates and Scott Plouf owed just as much of a debt to Northwest pioneer Lois Maffeo. To me, Rebecca Gates is kind of like a Lois Maffeo who wanted to rock out - and rock out she did, banging away on the basic chords of Lois-like melodies on guitar while Plouf drummed like a madman.

"Sunday" is from the band's invigorating 1993 debut, Manos, and nicely encapsulates their sound. The Spinanes put out two more albums, Strand (1996) and Arches and Aisles (1998), before breaking up. The latter was effectively a Gates solo album, with Plouf having left to join Built To Spill, and though Gates released her formal solo debut in 2001, she appears to have all but given up music. But while she was still at it, she and Plouf put out some very memorable music, of which this song is a great example.

Unexpected pleasure

I didn't realize until just yesterday that weeding our big and unruly flower beds can actually be enjoyable, with just the right musical accompaniment. I hauled the old boombox outside, hooked up a long extension cord and extricated rogue grasses and clover to the incomparable strains of Television's Marquee Moon and Tom Waits' Swordfishtrombones. And after the work was done, I relaxed on the front steps in the setting sun, finished the last of my icewater and listened a second time to Waits' hauntingly lovely "A Soldier's Things". Life, as they say, is good.

Song of the Week: Jeff Buckley

Jeff Buckley: Lover, You Should've Come Over

I've obsessed over quite a few Jeff Buckley songs from Grace - "Last Goodbye" (which miraculously had a lot of radio airplay in the mid 1990s), his jaw-dropping cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", even his subdued take on "Lilac Wine." And now, suddenly, this stunner which shows the phenomenal range of Buckley's voice without going to the Robert Plant-ish histrionic extremes that marred several songs on this otherwise fascinating album. I also admire the gospel touches on what is a very sensual song. Check it out for yourself, and ponder, along with me, the great promise we all lost in that swift Mississippi current in 1997. Sad indeed.

Song of the Week: Silkworm

Silkworm: Couldn't You Wait?

Yes, I know I've waxed nostalgic about Silkworm many times here, many more than might be expected from someone who only owns one of the band's albums. But that one album is the mighty Libertine, long out of print but now back via the uncommonly good graces of Comedy Minus One, a fledgling label in Princeton, NJ that's putting out a lot of Silkworm-related material, including Bottomless Pit, the new project of Andy Cohen and Tim Midgett. And "Couldn't You Wait" is the first Silkworm song I ever heard, fifteen years ago on a CMJ Music Monthly disc, and it's been my absolute favorite ever since. So it's an absolute no-brainer linking to it here.

Do you still think you're a god?
Is your first day on the job even over yet?
Is the summertime in heaven grand?
Is it fifty-nine past the eleven hand?

No, I have little or no idea what any of it means, but I love it all the same. Hope you will too.

Quote

"I think in a loose way the idea of keeping it minimal goes beyond just the music. It’s my whole approach to everything. Don’t say too much whenever possible. We’re just trying to get the most impact out of the least amount."
- Glenn Mercer of the Feelies

Words I live by.

Bo Diddley (Was) a Gunslinger

Sad news: rock and roll legend Bo Diddley has passed away, at age 79. He's the only person I can think of who has a rythym named after him: "the Bo Diddley beat" (roughly similar to "shave and a haircut, two bits") that has been shamelessly borrowed by countless other musicians during the past fifty years. I saw him perform during the late 1980s at Biddy Mulligan's, the eclectic but now-shuttered music club on Chicago's far north side, and he put on a great show. So long Bo, you will be missed.

(Via allmusic.com.)

Song of the Week: Vehicle Flips

Vehicle Flips: Honeywell Round Thermostat

With this one, I really don't know where to start - with the song itself, a touching ode to a very common and familiar object that few people ever gave much thought to? with Vehicle Flips, one of my favorite bands of the 1990s, one of those wonderfully obscure little bands that I felt like I owned all to myself? with Object Lessons: Songs About Products, the terrific compilation on which this song first appeared? with Beer Frame, the epic zine which wittily catalogued Paul Lukas' deeply considered obsession with consumer goods? Each aspect is equally deserving of first mention, so I'll do the cowardly thing and select none of them. Over at Little Hits, the blog where I found this mp3, Stewart Mason nicely encapsulates all of the above, so I'll punt and leave the lauding to him.

Vehicle Flips put out three fine albums during the nineties - In Action, The Premise Unraveled (where an alternate version of "Honeywell Round Thermostat" appeared), and For You I Pine - before frontman and lyricist Frank Boscoe drifted elsewhere. Damn, I still miss Vehicle Flips. Beer Frame, too.

Song of the Week: Crash Test Dummies

Crash Test Dummies: Superman's Song

Crash Test Dummies are best known for their one hit, "MMM MMM MMM MMM", but while I only know of two other songs of theirs, both are far superior to their hit: a cover of the Replacements' "Androgynous", and this ode to the Man of Steel. While the obvious highlight of the song is the impossibly deep voice of frontman Brad Roberts, the lyrics are quite sharp as well:

Tarzan wasn't a ladies' man
He'd just come along and scoop 'em up under his arm
Like that, quick as a cat in the jungle
But Clark Kent now there was a real gent
He would not be caught sittin' around in no
Junglescape, dumb as an ape doing nothing

Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him

Hey Bob, Supe had a straight job
Even though he could have smashed through any bank
In the United States, he had the strength, but he would not
Folks said his family were all dead
Their planet crumbled but Superman, he forced himself
To carry on, forget Krypton, and keep going

Tarzan was king of the jungle and Lord over all the apes
But he could hardly string together four words: "I Tarzan, You Jane. "

Sometimes when Supe was stopping crimes
I'll bet that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back
On man, join Tarzan in the forest
But he stayed in the city, and kept on changing clothes
In dirty old phonebooths till his work was through
And nothing to do but go on home

Having only minimal familiarity with the band, I hadn't thought of Crash Test Dummies in years. But recently I picked up the first two issues of Mark Russell's Superman Stories, a very funny and thought-provoking zine which imagines the everyday life of Superman. Sure, he has superpowers, but he has plenty of human weaknesses too - a violent temper, emotional impenetrability, boredom and much more. I strongly encourage you to give Russell a read.

And pondering the less-than-super traits of Superman that Russell writes about couldn't help but remind me of this wonderful song. I hope you enjoy both.

Replacements Reissued!

Every defunct band seems to be getting the reissue treatment these days, including the great Replacements, whose first four records (Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out the Trash; The Replacements Stink; Hootenany; and Let It Be) have been re-released by the ever-wonderful Rhino Records. Pitchfork reviews all four here. Learning that each reissue includes bonus tracks brought a smile to my face, since it brought to mind the following gem from the 1989 edition of the Trouser Press Record Guide (remember that in 1989 the transition from vinyl to CD was still underway):

Although four Replacements albums are out on CD, not one of them includes a bonus track. Bastards.

With passages like that, it's no wonder I've revered that book for so many years. If for some inexplicable reason you've never heard Let It Be, then for heaven's sake snatch up this reissue as fast as humanly possible. Truly one of the greatest rock albums ever made.

Song of the Week: The Feelies

The Feelies: "Dancing Barefoot"

Anybody who's been reading this blog for more than a few days knows I'm a huge fan of the Feelies. My ardor goes back nearly twenty years, from the moment I picked up a budget-priced vinyl copy of Only Life at Record City in Skokie, which is now long gone but where for several years I spent many a lunch hour while working in the area. Then it was their 1986 masterpiece The Good Earth, and lastly their good-but-not-great finale, Time For a Witness. (Oddly enough, I never picked up their debut Crazy Rhythms though I'm fairly familiar with most of it.) I missed the opportunity to see them on their final tour, in 1991, when they played at the Vic the night before I was leaving town on a fishing trip. Looking back, I would gladly have traded the extra exhaustion the next day for seeing this great band in their prime. Regrets.

The Feelies always had impeccable taste in covers, with their albums, EPs and B-sides including their takes on the Beatles' "Everybody's Got Something To Hide (Except For Me and My Monkey)" and "She Said She Said", the Rolling Stones' "Paint It Black", the Velvet Underground's "What Goes On" and "White Light White Heat", Neil Young's "Sedan Delivery" and Iggy Pop's "Real Cool Time". (All but one of their albums closed with a cover - and Feelies' frontman Glenn Mercer continued the tradition on his recent solo album, with a medley of two George Harrison-penned tunes, "Within You, Without You" and "Love You To.")

All of this is a long-winded way of pointing to the tune I've linked to above, the band's cover of Patti Smith's "Dancing Barefoot", with bassist Brenda Sauter taking a rare lead vocal. I'm mostly familiar with Smith's song from the U2 version that saturated alternative rock radio in the early 1990s, but I'm quite pleased to realize that the Feelies did it even better. What I love about their version is that while it's unmistakably the Patti Smith classic, it's also pure, quintessential Feelies - the strummed rhythm guitar, the rich lead guitar, the crisp percussion, the subdued vocal delivery. The band took a very familiar tune and made it their own, which is how all great covers are. Terrific.

Intimations of Mortality from Recollections of Early Adulthood*

Yesterday marked a significant turning point in my life. Now, for the first time since I was 19 years old - I'm now 42 - I am without a stereo. It's been a long time coming, but yesterday finally settled the matter. Last fall we had major renovations done on our family room, with new hardwood floors installed and the room repainted. In preparation we cleared everything out of the room, which included my disassembling the stereo that resided in the entertainment cabinet. The stereo was stored in the sun porch (which is closed off for the winter) along with other items from the family room, but even though the work was finished by November, I never got around to putting all the stuff back. Yesterday I finally did so, with everything put back in place but the stereo. It sat there, dusty and forlorn, on the dining room floor as I inwardly debated what to do with it.

That stereo had been a big part of my life for the better part of two decades. It was my first major purchase as an independent adult. After getting by with an inherited turntable and cheap speakers (no receiver or tape deck) during my freshman year in college, during the following summer I went to Pacific Stereo in Schaumburg and splurged on what was then a pretty nice setup - an Onkyo analog receiver, Technics turntable, Sony cassette deck and a wonderfully oversized pair of EPI speakers. Though I upgraded in later years, replacing the Sony with a Nakamichi deck and entering the digital age in 1989 with a Denon CD player, that orignal core setup was the source of untold hours of listening pleasure. Whenever I would move into a new apartment, the stereo would be the first thing taken out and set up. Clothes might not be unpacked for a few days, and kitchen utensils for weeks or even months, but from my first hour in that apartment the stereo would be fully functional and most likely cranking out music as I settled into the new digs. At one time I could have told you the first music I played in any given new place, and though I've forgotten the rest by now I can still reliably report that when I moved into my apartment in Roscoe Village in 1996 the first thing I listened to was a sampler disc from CMJ New Music Monthly that included the Apples in Stereo, which was soon supplemented by The Lounge Ax Defense and Relocation Compact Disc which was purchased on the evening of my move.

In short, that stereo was my constant companion which, due to its complete unportability, meant I was home a lot. As much as I like to fondly recall the few crazy nights of too much drinking and too little responsible behavior from those days, for the most part I was a homebody. Which is all fine. It's who I am, and who I'll always be. That stereo got me through countless hours that were solitary but not necessarily lonely.

Which brings us to yesterday. My passion for music is nowhere near what it once was, and though I still listen a lot I do so almost exclusively online, or with my iPod or laptop, or in the car. The stereo has languished during recent years, especially since my daughter was born, as I've opted for the more modern and convenient modes of listening. As I looked at the stereo sitting there on the dining room floor, wires disconnected and looking quite aged, I finally realized that its time had passed. One by one I lugged the components up to the attic, where I returned them safely to their original boxes which I've kept for all these years. So while I haven't discarded the stereo completely, up there in the attic it's very much out of sight, out of mind, and most likely I'll never listen to it again.

As I undertook this sober act yesterday, my wife sensed what was going on inside my head. I finally made an attempt at a lighthearted comment, saying in mock-solemn tones that I had reached a major turning point in my life. She was an English major in college, and in response she laughed and said "Oh, okay, Prufrock." She specifically cited Eliot's line "Do I dare to eat a peach?", which got me thinking of the entire stanza. A quick perusal of the Norton Anthology brought these once-familiar verses back to mind:

I grow old…I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Quite a reflection on aging and mortality, that was. But never mind. Despite the somber mood of all of the above, there's no need to worry about me. I've moved on with my life. And I'll still hear the mermaids singing, each to each - just not via my Onyko TX-21 analog receiver.

(*My deepest apologies to Wordsworth. The Prufrock comment got me nostalgic for the few poems I remember from my British lit class. Here's to you, Dr. Cole, wherever you are.)