I'm not ****ed, not quite

Today it's been a decade since Elliott Smith died. As I said at the time (or Stephanie did), you really have to want to go to go that way.

His fans are legion, and loyal. I came to the party (probably poor word choice there) late, absorbing every syllable and note of XO during my first year in Chicago. And later. And even later.

Is it the best break-up album ever? I say it's the best post- and post-post, and starting-to-feel-stronger-every-day-post- and wow-what-a-distant-memory-but-this-reminds-me-I-did-it post-breakup album.

I know the album is the death knell of...something, the dreaded major-label debut, but if anything, Elliott's Big Sellout gives him more tools to be even better. The production is not too much, and I think I have a pretty decent over-production bullsheet sensor.

Every track takes a mask off of betrayal and renewal. I'll ponder that more, after a visit to the online store.

It was hard to decide, but this one has always meant the most:

My answer is always the same

I was treated to the subtle and powerful songs of Bill Callahan Monday night. Flanked by winged bulls and the other decadent props of an overpriced Middle Eastern restaurant, he laid out this mesmerizing number.



Today I found out it's a cover of a soulful and decidedly and uncharacteristically (for the time) blues ballad from 1950 by Percy Mayfield, who is no relation to Curtis but was known for this exquisite song and for "Hit The Road Jack," which he provided to Ray Charles. After that, he sank into obscurity.



It's been covered by scads of other ballad crooners, from Sade to the Dead. I think these two, what is perhaps the most recent version bookended with the original, suit me fine.

No more standing beside the walls

I enjoyed last Wednesday's show very much, but, holy hell, if these guys had unfurled this cover over all the white, college-English-major folk in that arena--well, I'd have made this post a week earlier.



This is one of my favorite songs, not to mention a top-two get-ass-on-dancefloor-NOW winner. Gaye's reluctant disco effort is lovingly detailed for posterity, and even if the party outside the song's perimeter was manufactured, hell, it was a good one. Plus--banging on bottles.

Of course, Gaye's easy-sound but fastidiously-made groove spawned some controversy some 36 years later, though I think nothing came of it (at least prior to Thicke's, erm, aided VMA rendition), and rightly so. I don't think a "groove" is an exclusive artistic form, and neither does this guy.

Maybe it's number one get-ass for me, come to think of it. I remember sprinting from the front door of the Artful Dodger to the postage-stamp dancefloor in back in record-crushing speed, and then letting this wash over me, surrounded by friends.

So if I have to experience this in a red box onscreen in order to relive that memory in my brain box, and to re-love this song, so be it.

...and you know that for sure

The answer.

Today's Shuffle: Til the evening is complete

A new commute means new sky and new trees to take in, and a revival of Shuffling off to work each weekday. I have a longer walk to and from transit, but, overall, a trip that isn't disjointed, like the previous decade has been, and is pleasant, even relaxed, at least so far.

Of course, don't let all of this tranquil repose indicate that this post is being posted on the day the Shuffling occurred--but within the week is fine when you're still pulling cookware and curtains out of boxes.

Here's how the first, almost-full week of a new journey began*:

Take It Away, Paul McCartney Tug of War
Not Turning Off, Spoon Telephono
Clean Money, Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Armed Forces
Michael Jackson, Billie Jean Thriller
Talkin' 'bout Hey Love, De La Soul De La Soul Is Dead
Fooled Around And Fell In Love, Elvin Bishop Struttin' My Stuff
The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, Lauryn Hill  The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors, Radiohead Amnesiac
Hollywood Freaks, Beck Midnite Vultures
This Mess We're In, PJ Harvey Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea
Journey To Arnhemland, Jamiroquai  The Return of the Space Cowboy 
Fleur de Lys, Julianna Hatfield Become What You Are
Troubled Girl, Karen Ramirez Sunlounge Sessions, Vol. 1 
Dig A Pony, The Beatles, Let It Be...Naked
West End Girls, Pet Shop Boys Please
Mariposita de Primavera, Omara Portuondo Buena Vista Social Club
Lady Grinning Soul, David Bowie Aladdin Sane




*most appropriately: with Macca

Talkin' jivey, poison ivy

Have I found a new karaoke song? Or an end-of-workday catharsis?



This track achieves the triple crown of mid-70s hard rock: twin guitars, cowbell, and talk box.

It was also unwillingly titled, and it's that chorus that sails it over most other hairy, platform-and-flares yowling of that era. Plus, the band was named after a lyric from their heroes, The Band. And, Scottish? Cool. They were the Caledonian answer to Thin Lizzy.

GAELS RAWK.

Memories of you

‎One of Granddad's. ‎

Want it in writing

Takin' a ride

I'm in trouble

Favorite Thing

Hanging Downtown

I don't know - Buck Hill

Color me impressed

Tommy gets his tonsils out

Achin to be

Androgynous

Dare

Love you til Friday - Maybelline (Chuck Berry)

Merry go round

Wake up

Borstal breakout (Sham 69)

A little mascara

Left of the dial

Alex chilton

Swinging party
Kiss me on the bus
Waitress in the sky

I can't hardly wait

Bastards of young

Hold my life

IOU

We are the sons of no one.

I'll be home when I'm sleeping.