Friday, March 07, 2003
"Ohhhhhh Mama can this really be the end ,
to be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again..."
They don't write songs like that one anymore...
I sound like a commercial for K-Tel Records,
except they were talking about Hoagy Carmichael, then.
Maybe in another 20 years someone will be saying the same thing about some song they heard in 2003.
I can't fathom it, really.
Hard to get sentimental or even feign interest over "Closing Time" - and/or whatever the hell the name of the song where the guy says "I'm six feet under, bla bla bla"- or the girly-girl who sings "Little bit o this, little bit o that"...
Are you kidding me or what?
I guess they're trying to express the same sort of angst as Bob Dylan
did on the opening tune,
but gee, golly, damn- something has seriously disconnected in the imagination and creative part of the brain responsible for writing songs that you feel in the gut.
This knockover fluff I'm hearing lately is just rehashed, reheated, recycled, and redundant.
Dozy git.
I really like that word, it has chemistry.
I like Echo and the Bunnymen.
I used to wear my hair the same way as Ian did
when he sang The Yo-Yo Man:
"Froze to the bone in my igloo home,
counting the days till the ice turn green
You know when heaven and hell collide
there are no in betweens..."
Gloomy shit. I loved it, still do...
Especially on this rainy March day-
And I don't drink alcohol, any more.
Amazing the amount of control it takes when you don't drink, to keep your sanity.
The jokes are all rehearsed, the rim shots are dead on, but you aren't in a stream of consciousness when delivering the punch lines- so if they work, great, if they don't-
Angst...
Like the sound of the pipe organ at Yankee Stadium, when everybody's waiting for something to happen aside from someone spitting on his shoe for the umpteenth time-
Uuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrr goes the organ- as if to say: "Will this guy get a hit"? "Will he steal the base"? or What?
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrr goes the organ.
Godfrey Daniels there's pineapple juice in my pineapple juice!
And the band played on...
"Oh Buttermilk skies..."
'Till next time, 'Mela
1:03 AM
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Photo: Michio Yves Ueda
