album review: all shook down (reissue)- the replacements

'turn it up so i don't have to think'- someone take the wheel

he walks into the nightclub, (this was back when they used to have nightclubs) alone, and spots his phantom hovering above a vacant table. not dressed in a white cloak, but a simple dress. she smiles, but looks nervous. he tears up immediately, with anger and love. she waves him over.
he orders a shot and a short beer. and another for his phantom, which, for obvious reasons, he will have to finish.
the third wheel is the history.
the past is mulled over. the phantom speaks of it like a movie she's seen. a movie she enjoyed but hasn't watched since. he lives every memory over as he speaks it. face twitching (as it does), fingers locking and unlocking, eyes welling.
you are all extras in my movie, he thinks. even you, now...
the phantom flickers like she reads his thoughts. she flickers and disintegrates. he is left alone, reaching for her. the other patrons see a man out of control, or possibly, swatting at flies. it is not out of the ordinary and they leave him alone.
and he lingers on at the nightclub, waiting for his phantom. for years. then one day he sees a girl, sad and beautiful, at the end of the bar.
and the phantom reappears..no...no...not for you...
and disappears again.
so he leaves the nightclub. head like a film projector, and he doesn't remember getting home, or where he stopped along the way...
when he gets home he stumbles through the front door. throws up, miraculously, in the toilet, and staggers to his room.
and his phantom is there.
welcoming him.
he takes his clothes off and crawls, i mean, crrrraaaaawwwwwllllssssss, under the covers. and phantom fingers run through his hair. and four phantom limbs wrap themselves around him, and rock him slowly...to...sleep....

mission of burma- that's when i reach for my revolver

this blog has been awful pussy lately. time to wake myself up. here's one with no strings attached, a great band playing a great song. doesn't reflect on what i'm feeling at all.

sadly beautiful-the replacements

the new 'mats reissues come out this week. get them.
a perfect song. beautiful and sad. so to speak.

thanks.

y'all know how i feel about music. it's with me all the time. take a snapshot of a moment in my life. i will score it.
it's all that matters to me. really. do anything to me but strike me deaf and i will endure.
there are moments, significant moments, when you hear the right song at the right time.
'can't hardly wait', saved me, in the back of k.t.'s grand am. seriously. sucking on a sprite bottle full of vodka, it released me. my vision blurred! i saw cartoon violins! the tone of the guitar! it was like a tube. do you know what i mean? jesus, i don't know if you know what i mean...but it was a moment i will never forget. it defined me. it was beauty amidst my high school ugly. ugly. ugly.
and jane's addiction. maybe to be scoffed at now. but at the time it opened my eyes to a world i couldn't have dreamed of. a world of excess, yes, but also a world of creativity. a world where you could express yourself without censorship.
and i heard dylan, late, it's true. 'desire'. 'one more cup of coffee'. 'sara'. 'sara'. there has never been a sadder song...please, if you don't know it look it up. and think of the one that got away....
and 'pet sounds'. i don't wanna talk about 'pet sounds' right now. i haven't listened to it for quite awhile...
lucy's tapes...
but there are moments! fewer as i get older. moments that are pure magic. moments when i feel like a drunk teenager in the back of a grand am. moments where i feel less alone. like someone, someone i don't know, is speaking to me. naive? yep. juvenile? i'm sure. but i get those moments.
i got it when mike played me 'sequestered in memphis'. it was glorious. it made me feel like the first time i heard 'rosalita'. and that's a great feeling. a feeling of abandon! like it IS us against them and we...may..very...well..win...
we didn't. i didn't. but, mike, thanks for that.
and recently..
recently i had a moment. and i knew within 39 seconds it was a moment. i was on a drive with a friend. a good friend, i hope. she said, pointing at the ipod, 'play some m. ward'. so i did. i'm easy that way. and i played 'transfiguration of vincent'(which, the title, i soon found out was inspired by john fahey, who, y'know, i love!) and an instrumental played. and it was really nice. really. but then came 'vincent o'brien':


'he only sings when he's sad
and he's sad all the time
so he sings the whole night through
yeah, and he sings in the daytime too'

and i remember my eyes rolling back. i looked at the trees (we were driving through a beautiful park) and that's the last thing i remember. i was swept away. i had that 'where have you been all my life?' feeling. it was gorgeous, and i don't think i got over it that weekend. or since.
what can i say?
maybe i feel it all too deeply.
maybe i feel it 'cuz i can't say it.
maybe i'm too dumb to say it.
but that's what keeps me going.
i don't wanna check out too soon.
'cuz i might....miss...a...moment...like...that...

how do you mend a broken heart- al green

just listen.

i want to vanish-elvis costello

you go to see a movie. and it's not that good. it drags, and the plot is cliched, poorly written, characters enter and leave without explanation. it's bad. but not so bad that you'll walk out on it. you paid good money and maybe the ending will have some kind of reward if you ride it out. so you sit there.
but when it's over it feels so good to stretch your legs.

chris mars-popular creeps

they better leave us loners alone. brilliant.

if you think you're lonely now...

yeah, i'm posting a mariah carey clip. this is one of the great soul songs of our time. i'ts up there with 'tracks of my tears'. seriously. it's perfect. a bobby womack reference that brings you to your knees, then the line 'i'm trying to keep it together, but i'm falling apart', which may as well be the name of this blog.
it's a great song cuz it makes you feel it. it makes you feel her pain. it also makes you feel like you wish were the guy she was talking to. i've never been that guy. i've never been able to arouse that kind of passion in a woman. boo hoo. poor me. but that's what you're here for.
she sells it at the end. watch her. or better, yet, close your eyes and listen. listen...it's pure emotion. the mega star fades away and reveals herself as human. and i will always respect her for those 30 seconds where she made me feel..make me feel like i'm not alone. which is the best thing music can do for you. for those few second she is among one of the greats.

alicia keys- no one

it's been pointed out that i don't put many female artists on this blog. true enough. probly cuz i'm so scared of women.
i am a hardcore, but secret, alicia keys fan. i think she writes some of the most timeless soul songs ever. and that rasp, jesus, always makes me think of mary wells, tho' that's not a great comparison. this song makes me feel good. i hope it makes you feel good too.

sad songs say so much (inspired by my favorite sad songs)

a man (again) walks into a bar. the mirror behind the bottles glares back at him. a mirror image of himself, a twisted, jagged image of himself, stares him down. he shivers.
he knows he has walked into the wrong bar. every bottle bottom shelf. every face a bitter mask. a ghost of a chance covering a wasted frame. an acid washed classic. y'know?
and she is a ghost, it's true. gone before she met you. and you are chasing shadows, stamping your feet onto the hard ground, grasping at hallucinations.
maybe you are the ghost, kid.
maybe you're not there.
cuz, you...obviously..don't...matter...
(sadly beautiful, 'the mat's, cue it.)
and you stir in your sleep. seriously. dogs snap at your ankles. you wake and snack. eat, eat, eat, (if i can't be your lover than i'll be a pest-d.johnston).
and you, he, whatever, swirl back to a bar brimming with life. and you fixate on a girl in a dress who looks like you always imagined. like you hope a girl in a dress will look. like a girl who looks through you. cuz she knows better.
and the song now..uh...let's go with 'fool says' by m. ward (you got it short!) tho' it's all, really, vincent o'brien)
and the sad songs swirl though your (his, aw, fuck the parenthesis) head. my head. like my head swins in the sad songs. cuz i wallow in it. the sadness. cuz i get it. i understand it. it makes sense to me.
and i love it, love it, so.

okkervil river-john allyn smith sails

for david foster wallace.

you are my sunshine-dylan and cash

this is for a friend who really loves this song. i haven't heard this before, but i've heard stuff with the two of them singing and it's always beautiful. enjoy! god, i love good music.

m. ward-vincent o'brien

yeah...

the temptaitions-just my imagination

read this as you listen to the song. othewise it doen't work.

a man walks into a bar. sits in a booth for 4. orders a gin and tonic. waits. waits and watches. and sips his drink. eyes the jukebox. suspiciously, as it spits out the hits of the recent past. songs that die before they end. songs that evaporate into the smokey air.
he watches through the window. for her. for the girl that makes his heart skip. not jump, but skip. enough to make him worry. and one walks in. and it's not her. and he sips his drink. and he imagines himself, content, and at peace. and another one walks in. and it's not her. and he imagines himself, sleepy, on a couch, with fingers through his hair.
and he orders another drink.
and looks at the jukebox.
and thinks, hmmmmmmmmmmmm, 'tracks of my tears'? no. 'you send me'? nah. 'band of gold'? jeez! fuck! no! not that one! not now! you're trying to forget that one!
(and remember this is all dream)
and another drink...
and his mind wanders...
where it shouldn't.
sometimes wanting someone is better than having them. (think about that, kids. really.)
and the lights and the sounds swirl. and someone plays 'just my imagination'.
and do you hear in his voice? when he sings, so subtly, 'once again'? once again.
we don't learn from our past. we are creatures of habit. that's why we get hung up on our past.
ahemmmmmm.
that's why HE gets hung up on HIS past. (we're being objective here).
and another drink goes down.
and she still doesn't show.
tho' another one does. and she strolls past him so slow. and he buries his head in his chest, cuz it's...all...so...scary....
and the tremolo of the guitar matches the quivering in his throat. it's nervous but peaceful. i..i...i...something. i something. what?
what?
he's a mess. it's true. and he expects too much. he feels too much. the jukebox eggs him on. he wishes he didn't feel too much. to feel nothing, like those guys who seem to be able to walk to, and away from, the best ones. who come without warning, leave without feeling (to coin a phrase).
but he's destined to sit there, true, gin after gin, pining for every girl who walks into the bar. cuz the one he wants is walking away...cuz in reality...she doesn't even know me...

the lemonheads- outdoor type

i went camping this weekend! and i had a great time! but for the week before i went this song was going through my head...

well said, etc.

Music is a beautiful opiate, if you don’t take it too seriously.
- Henry Miller

bruce springsteen-devils and dust

an amazingly beautiful song. i love the e street band, sure, but nothing beats bruce alone with a guitar.
i once saw a woman perform this and 'baby got back' on the same evening. stunning. the woman and the songs!