Archive for the ‘Music that doesn’t suck’ Category

Bucket (play)list

July 14, 2018

It never rains, but it pours. Enough to fill up that bucket, anyway.

The rain gods finally heard our prayers this afternoon. Or maybe they heard the Tom Waits. I was playing “Small Change,” but it might be time to cue up “Rain Dogs.” For I am a Rain Dog too.

The river of dreams

July 12, 2018

Lately dreams are sliding right out of my brain-pan as I awaken, like eggs from a non-stick skillet.

It’s slightly irksome, on a par with an overzealous server who whisks your plate away before you’ve mopped up the final toothsome tidbits. “Hey, I was still savoring that. …”

I’m pretty sure I’m being entertained as I sleep, but maybe it’s a lowbrow sort of dreaming, like some off-brand Netflix movie you’re trying to describe for a friend.

“It was pretty good. It had whatsisface in it, you know, that guy who’s in everything, and there was that gal from what the hell’s that TV show that never really took off? It wasn’t a rom-com but there weren’t any car chases or fight scenes either. It was based on a book by that dude from Spokane, or is it Reno? You know the one. No, not that one. The other one. Can’t remember the name of it but yeah, it was pretty good.”

Or maybe the dreams are simply being overwhelmed by reality, like the aftermath of an election. Herself is still in Flawduh, taking care of business mom-wise, and so instead of lounging around in the sack of a morning, reviewing the work my subconscious did overnight, I have to get up, feed and water the cats, empty the dishwasher and the litter box, make the coffee, and like that there.

Speaking of cats, ours will be giving me poor marks on Yelp. Herself is generally up and at ’em around 4:30, but in her absence I don’t spring into action until 6. None of us has a job, and we’re not going anywhere fast, so what’s the rush?

Try explaining that to a cat sometime. They have a finely honed sense of justice, which they perceive as “just us.” You can see them mentally counting down the days until you croak of an aneurysm while reading The New York Times and they finally get to eat your lips.

Take your bidness back to Walgreens

June 25, 2018

Speaking on behalf of all my fellow creeps, this one goes out to Col. Sarah Hucklebuck Sanders and the rest of the Special Snowflake Division at the GOP. Get it to go, bitches.

Make it rain

June 16, 2018

Finally. What a great day to be a rain dog.

A working-class hero is something to be

June 13, 2018

The economy is rocking, they say — but for whom?

“It’s a bit of a puzzle,” says Fed Chairman Jerome H. Powell. Do tell.

‘Let’s blow anyway’

June 7, 2018

“Both Directions at Once: The Lost Album,” is a full set of material recorded by the John Coltrane Quartet on a single day in March 1963.

Imagine how thrilling and appalling it must be, all at once, for a gigging jazzman to learn that a lost John Coltrane album is due to be released on June 29.

Remember your Jack Kerouac, whose Sal Paradise recalls some young bop musicians urging George Shearing to step out of the audience and play at a Chicago club in “On the Road”:

He played innumerable choruses with amazing chords that mounted higher and higher until the sweat splashed all over the piano and everybody listened in awe and fright. They led him off the stand after an hour. He went back to his dark corner, old God Shearing, and the boys said, “There ain’t nothin’ left after that.”

But the slender leader frowned. “Let’s blow anyway.”

Something would come of it yet. There’s always more, a little further — it never ends.

A love-hate relationship

May 25, 2018

Winter Table | self-portrait by The Burning Hell

This is why I love the Innertubes: You can hear something delightfully off the wall on the local NPR affiliate, look it up with a few strokes on the keyboard, and discover an entire band of Canadian weirdos you didn’t know existed. Well done to Peggy Hessing, who was spinning the platters during Friday’s Afternoon Freeform.

I’m particularly fond of the lyric: “Life is a comedian who used to be funny but then became a born-again Christian. Now it’s all punch and no punch lines and he calls his routine his mission. And he doesn’t understand the difference between laughing at and laughing with him.”

This is why I hate the Innertubes: Your “smart” hardware can use it to rat you out.

Siri chirped some inanity at me once when I had a lot of balls in the air and I told her to shut the fuck up. “I’d never talk to you like that,” she replied. You can say that again. But she can’t. I turned her off.

 

Happy Mothers Day

May 13, 2018

Faces only a Mother could love.

This one goes out to all you mothers.

 

‘I’m not dead yet. …’

March 27, 2018

Sixty-four, Bog help us all. The lyric “When I get older, losing my hair / Many years from now” no longer applies.

I’m not that handy mending a fuse, and Herself doesn’t knit sweaters by the fireside. Still, just last Saturday we were doing the garden, digging the weeds. Who could ask for more?

The 64km birthday ride is going to have to wait, though. The weather appears to be taking a turn for the worse. If I’m lucky I may be able to manage 64 minutes of running before the rain comes.

Rowdy dow dow

March 17, 2018

A happy St. Patrick’s Day to yis from Arthur McBride, Paul Brady and meself. Paul still has this one nailed four decades later. And here’s a livelier version of the same tune, by Planxty circa 1973.

Someone who is not dancing a jig this morning is Andrew McCabe, who has gotten the heave-ho from the FBI. Quite the happy-birthday present from Il Douche.

I imagine McCabe would love to have a trusty shillelagh with which to come over someone’s head. And who knows? P’raps he does so.