A curmudgeon writes.
This pretty much describes the attitude I’m going to force myself to take. Even though I may not be producing Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People, I have a couple of projects I Don’t Want To Let Slide.
And so, a reminder. No high-fives from God. Just a bunch of not-pissing-about.
Tomorrow.
You’ll be listening to some Charles Mingus through this – the jazz giant and composer who’s easily as cool as Miles ‘Motherfucker’ Davis – because my dander’s up thanks to this Esquire list. (Also largely because when it comes to sick bass riffs, Mingus is the shit.)
The list – and I’m uncertain how old it is – purports to detail the 75 albums that every man should own. Which in itself is a bit of a shithouse premise, and leads me to assume there must be a list of the 75 albums that every woman should own, and they’re mostly going to be Kate Bush and Ricky Martin. Because you know, chicks like chick stuff and dudes like dude stuff and you should never cross the streams, as continually evidenced by lists like this other one, which claims that liking synth-pop ensures you’ll never get laid, and what’s wrong with you anyway? (It’s from 2009 but was in the recommended links section, so y’know.)
I suppose Esquire tries to shoot for the Like A Sir market, constructed upon What It Is To Be A Gentleman, closely related to the How To Dress Like You’re In Mad Men and How To Get A Six Pack In A Manner Totally Different To The One We Printed Last Month market, so the sort of scattershot commentary within is to be expected, but I’m pretty surprised at how some of these shake out. Continue reading “It’s a man’s world”
No matter where you live.
Today I’ve been listening to a fair bit of the Mountain Goats. Namely, The Sunset Tree, which is perhaps the most overtly autobiographical thing Goat chief John Darnielle has done. I guess you could argue that his life has provided grist for the lyrical mill all along – they are a deeply personal band (even when it’s just John) but The Sunset Tree was forthright in the handling of its author’s time as an abused kid. It’s also a more fulsome recording, benefiting from the expansions extra instrumentations introduce to a body of work more usually recorded on a boombox.
The first video in this post is what I’d pick as my go-to song on the album, though there’s really an embarrassment of lyrical riches on the bloody thing. Recently featured in an episode of The Walking Dead, the song ‘Up The Wolves’ is deeply sad and ebullient at the same time. It’s pugnacious sadness, and it gets me every time.
Continue reading “There’s bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet”
Today’s enthusiasm: a Guardian story where they’ve placed famous album covers on Google Maps’ Street View of the location the shot was taken.
It tickles my fancy somewhat, as it brings together two loves: maps and music. I was aware of the PopSpots site chronicling pop-culture locations in New York City (mostly), but it has always been presented as much more of a solid research, go-and-look-and-take-a-photo-of-the-place sort of endeavour. There’s also this piece, showing (amongst other things), how the site of the first Black Sabbath cover shoot looks today.
I suppose that it’s the ability to see something that we think is somehow mystical or not-quite-real – the album cover – in something as commonplace as a Google window. There’s certainly an interest in where these magical cover events take place – just check out this page about how to find where David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album cover was shot (now the holder of one of those blue historical importance plaques) for an example. I suppose that now there’s an extra level to this nosey-parker stuff: with Street View we can see how things appear now. Or, if not now, then within spitting distance.
Continue reading “On the street where you live”
Yeah nah. 