Staying away from the news can be beneficial for your health
Well, good morning there. Oops, make that afternoon. I hope everyone's enjoying this cold day indoors, and away from their television sets. What with Fallujah, Arafat, Scott Peterson, and who knows what's blown into a full-scale catastrophe since yesterday, there's so much out there that yeah, impacts us from afar, but truth be told, it's all just out of control and we should just take a sick day from it all. So why not today? I've yet to turn to a news channel today, and already I'm feeling at peace and at one with the world. Because if I see one more clip of of idiots firing their guns into the air, proving Darwin's theory for the millionth time, I think I'll go even crazier than I already am. Trust me. I don't need help in this department. Thanks to my job, I hear all sides of every story, eight hours a day. We are fair and balanced, and it makes us ultra-sensitive to the fact that yes, everyone has gone spare, positively out of their ever-lovin' minds.
At least the music is always there to save me. Here's what's playing today, going down in alphabetical order on the iTunes Library list:
"All The Madmen" - David Bowie. St. Bowie. There are more air guitar moments in this song than I care to count. This was in constant rotation during election week, too, for some reason. But I don't think I was the madwoman in that case.
"Width of a Circle" - David Bowie. For me, one thing that always stands out about early Bowie tunes are the backing vocals of the two Micks - Ronson and Woodmansey; "Turn around go back!" in this one, and their unforgettable presence on "Rock 'n Roll Suicide" from "Ziggy." Just makes me gooey inside, man. Now if only my damned copy of the 30th anniversary edition of "Ziggy" would get here in the mail...
"No, No, No" - Dawn Penn. First heard this song in 1995 in the pub "down Rammy," as my ex and his friends (or mates) called the place we lived, a little village called Ramsbottom outside the Manchester suburb of Bury in the north of England. This one has stuck with me ever since, and lo and behold, I found it one night after I got back from living there in the used bin up at Hastings in Denton for the princely sum of $5. Praise the Kristess.
"The Strongest Man in The World" - The Deathray Davies. Don't you just love their name? They're from Dallas and they effin' rock. They make me want to get up and do Pete Townshend-type air-guitar jumps around the room. On the band's website's FAQ section, someone asks how the name came about and the answer is simply, "How cool would The Deathray Liotta's sound?"
"The Girl on the Billboard" - Del Reeves. A road-trippin', Krazy Kountry classic. Once you can wrap your mouth around the lyrics and their delivery, your entry into Nashville Babylon is set in stone. And damn, I sure do wish the Cramps would cover this one, too. It just seems a perfect fit for Lux and Ivy & Co.
"Anything, Anything (I'll Give You)" - Dramarama. From the "Mayor of the Sunset Strip" soundtrack. Original import album has Edie Sedgwick on the cover.
"I Close My Eyes and Count To Ten" - Dusty Springfield. God bless Dusty Springfield. I wonder what she thought when they used this song in that episode of "Cracker," where that psycho schoolgirl was kidnapping her male schoolmates and killing them to this song. Regardless, it's a purely heartfelt, haunting ballad. And we've all been there before.
"FCC Song" - Eric Idle. You just have to hear it for yourself. 49% of American voters probably knew this by heart long before November 2nd.
"The Classical" - The Fall. Before Mark E. Smith became known in the American music press as the guy who beat the crap out of his wives/bandmates - long after Brix had jettisoned from the pod - he was actually kind of a dementedly jolly Mancunian poet-laureate-on-acid type. I don't know what he's doing these days, but albums like "Dragnet" and "Live at the Witch Trials" were fookin' brilliant for young 'un like me, back in the day.
"Gold Dust Woman" - Fleetwood Mac. Gotta love it. I understand things weren't all rainbows, sunshine and lollipops behind the scenes, but these people made some beautiful music together. "Rumours" was the first album I ever begged my mother to buy for me. I used to fantasize about being Stevie Nicks' little sister, and dreamed of the perfect black blouse with angel sleeves.
"Big Me," "Everlong" - Foo Fighters. Power trios turn me on faster than being ogled by a sexy, Ian McShane gangster type (see "Sexy Beast"). You may not want to crank up "Everlong" as you're flying down the freeway at 75 mph, but then again, you may just want to.
"Whiskey Trip," "Single Again" - Gary Stewart. Gary Stewart, how could you have ripped yourself from this sphere so abruptly, so cruelly? God bless you and your honky tonk heart, and thank you for all the songs that still bring a lump to my throat.
"Let's Talk Dirty To The Animals" - Gilda Radner. Another one ripped so cruelly from our world. This one brings her right back to life, though.
"Arthur's Farm," "Architecture and Morality, Ted and Alice" - Half Man Half Biscuit. I was turned onto this Liverpool outfit through my ex-brother-in-law's ex-girlfriend, a Liverpudlian lass named Wendy. She sent me home in '89 with a cassette copy of "Back In The DHSS" and I eventually found the LP at VVV in Dallas, and as soon as I bought a CD player, tracked down a CD copy and made a special trip from Denton to Mesquite to buy it. That led me to another find, "ACD," which is worth having if you're a shiftless completist like me. I should get off my marshmallow and find their other stuff, too, because records by bands with lyrics such as "The nauseating bashfulness of early Diana made me want to set fire to commemorative tea towels" deserve a special place in anyone's collection.
"Cocaine Blues" - Hank Thompson. This guy's still at it, proving that a 58-year career ain't nothin' to sniff at. This song also has a slide guitar moment that'll leave you spinning, and the over-the-top shake-yer-ass ending is the icing on an already super-rich cake. No doubt Junior Brown listened to this guy a lot in his formative years.
"Lonesome 77-203" - Hawkshaw Hawkins. One of the two men who went down in the plane with Patsy Cline (cross yourself, acknowledge Her. That's right. Do it.) Was this his only hit, or were there others?
"Whiskey, If You Were A Woman," "Somewhere Tonight" - Highway 101. The mighty vocals of Paulette Carlson evoke the classic country goddesses, with a touch of Stevie Nicks thrown in for good measure. I get the feeling that legions of honky-tonk girls have cried their eyes out to either one of these songs during or after last call. And yes, while my own brain cells have been ransacked over the years with all kinds of tampering and abuse, I swear I'm not hallucinating the Stevie Nicks part.
"Grazing in the Grass" - Hugh Masakela. Did you know he produced "Lazy Days" by the Flying Burrito Brothers? I shit you not. How did that one come about?
"Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll" - Ian Dury. Rest in Peace, Mr. Dury. Thank you for providing me with proof of life.
"Mami Me Gusto" - Ibrahim Ferrer. Get ready to pour some rum and shake your ass. This little guy just burns up a stage. Joe and I saw him at Bass Hall and were mesmerized.
"I Wanna Be Your Dog" - Iggy & the Stooges. Another air guitar favorite.
"Saint Mary of the Woods" - James McMurtry and the Heartless Bastards. James McMurtry is my shining beacon of hope for rock and roll in the year 2004. He pens a mean lyric (writing talent runs in the family - just ask his father, Larry), and wears his Band and Kris Kristofferson influences well, too, going beyond even that to create something you'll be able to recognize in ten years as "a James McMurtry." The album "Live in Aught-Three" proves my power trio theory to be completely true, and McMurtry and his bandmates make a joyful fucking noise indeed. FYI, they're playing at the Aardvark in Fort Worth next Friday, the 19th.
Speaking of which, I'm gonna fly back to the nest for now - thanks for hanging out with me today. I might be back later. We're doing sweet F.A. this weekend, hopefully.
Lust, laughs and more -
GGD.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
At least the music is always there to save me. Here's what's playing today, going down in alphabetical order on the iTunes Library list:
"All The Madmen" - David Bowie. St. Bowie. There are more air guitar moments in this song than I care to count. This was in constant rotation during election week, too, for some reason. But I don't think I was the madwoman in that case.
"Width of a Circle" - David Bowie. For me, one thing that always stands out about early Bowie tunes are the backing vocals of the two Micks - Ronson and Woodmansey; "Turn around go back!" in this one, and their unforgettable presence on "Rock 'n Roll Suicide" from "Ziggy." Just makes me gooey inside, man. Now if only my damned copy of the 30th anniversary edition of "Ziggy" would get here in the mail...
"No, No, No" - Dawn Penn. First heard this song in 1995 in the pub "down Rammy," as my ex and his friends (or mates) called the place we lived, a little village called Ramsbottom outside the Manchester suburb of Bury in the north of England. This one has stuck with me ever since, and lo and behold, I found it one night after I got back from living there in the used bin up at Hastings in Denton for the princely sum of $5. Praise the Kristess.
"The Strongest Man in The World" - The Deathray Davies. Don't you just love their name? They're from Dallas and they effin' rock. They make me want to get up and do Pete Townshend-type air-guitar jumps around the room. On the band's website's FAQ section, someone asks how the name came about and the answer is simply, "How cool would The Deathray Liotta's sound?"
"The Girl on the Billboard" - Del Reeves. A road-trippin', Krazy Kountry classic. Once you can wrap your mouth around the lyrics and their delivery, your entry into Nashville Babylon is set in stone. And damn, I sure do wish the Cramps would cover this one, too. It just seems a perfect fit for Lux and Ivy & Co.
"Anything, Anything (I'll Give You)" - Dramarama. From the "Mayor of the Sunset Strip" soundtrack. Original import album has Edie Sedgwick on the cover.
"I Close My Eyes and Count To Ten" - Dusty Springfield. God bless Dusty Springfield. I wonder what she thought when they used this song in that episode of "Cracker," where that psycho schoolgirl was kidnapping her male schoolmates and killing them to this song. Regardless, it's a purely heartfelt, haunting ballad. And we've all been there before.
"FCC Song" - Eric Idle. You just have to hear it for yourself. 49% of American voters probably knew this by heart long before November 2nd.
"The Classical" - The Fall. Before Mark E. Smith became known in the American music press as the guy who beat the crap out of his wives/bandmates - long after Brix had jettisoned from the pod - he was actually kind of a dementedly jolly Mancunian poet-laureate-on-acid type. I don't know what he's doing these days, but albums like "Dragnet" and "Live at the Witch Trials" were fookin' brilliant for young 'un like me, back in the day.
"Gold Dust Woman" - Fleetwood Mac. Gotta love it. I understand things weren't all rainbows, sunshine and lollipops behind the scenes, but these people made some beautiful music together. "Rumours" was the first album I ever begged my mother to buy for me. I used to fantasize about being Stevie Nicks' little sister, and dreamed of the perfect black blouse with angel sleeves.
"Big Me," "Everlong" - Foo Fighters. Power trios turn me on faster than being ogled by a sexy, Ian McShane gangster type (see "Sexy Beast"). You may not want to crank up "Everlong" as you're flying down the freeway at 75 mph, but then again, you may just want to.
"Whiskey Trip," "Single Again" - Gary Stewart. Gary Stewart, how could you have ripped yourself from this sphere so abruptly, so cruelly? God bless you and your honky tonk heart, and thank you for all the songs that still bring a lump to my throat.
"Let's Talk Dirty To The Animals" - Gilda Radner. Another one ripped so cruelly from our world. This one brings her right back to life, though.
"Arthur's Farm," "Architecture and Morality, Ted and Alice" - Half Man Half Biscuit. I was turned onto this Liverpool outfit through my ex-brother-in-law's ex-girlfriend, a Liverpudlian lass named Wendy. She sent me home in '89 with a cassette copy of "Back In The DHSS" and I eventually found the LP at VVV in Dallas, and as soon as I bought a CD player, tracked down a CD copy and made a special trip from Denton to Mesquite to buy it. That led me to another find, "ACD," which is worth having if you're a shiftless completist like me. I should get off my marshmallow and find their other stuff, too, because records by bands with lyrics such as "The nauseating bashfulness of early Diana made me want to set fire to commemorative tea towels" deserve a special place in anyone's collection.
"Cocaine Blues" - Hank Thompson. This guy's still at it, proving that a 58-year career ain't nothin' to sniff at. This song also has a slide guitar moment that'll leave you spinning, and the over-the-top shake-yer-ass ending is the icing on an already super-rich cake. No doubt Junior Brown listened to this guy a lot in his formative years.
"Lonesome 77-203" - Hawkshaw Hawkins. One of the two men who went down in the plane with Patsy Cline (cross yourself, acknowledge Her. That's right. Do it.) Was this his only hit, or were there others?
"Whiskey, If You Were A Woman," "Somewhere Tonight" - Highway 101. The mighty vocals of Paulette Carlson evoke the classic country goddesses, with a touch of Stevie Nicks thrown in for good measure. I get the feeling that legions of honky-tonk girls have cried their eyes out to either one of these songs during or after last call. And yes, while my own brain cells have been ransacked over the years with all kinds of tampering and abuse, I swear I'm not hallucinating the Stevie Nicks part.
"Grazing in the Grass" - Hugh Masakela. Did you know he produced "Lazy Days" by the Flying Burrito Brothers? I shit you not. How did that one come about?
"Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll" - Ian Dury. Rest in Peace, Mr. Dury. Thank you for providing me with proof of life.
"Mami Me Gusto" - Ibrahim Ferrer. Get ready to pour some rum and shake your ass. This little guy just burns up a stage. Joe and I saw him at Bass Hall and were mesmerized.
"I Wanna Be Your Dog" - Iggy & the Stooges. Another air guitar favorite.
"Saint Mary of the Woods" - James McMurtry and the Heartless Bastards. James McMurtry is my shining beacon of hope for rock and roll in the year 2004. He pens a mean lyric (writing talent runs in the family - just ask his father, Larry), and wears his Band and Kris Kristofferson influences well, too, going beyond even that to create something you'll be able to recognize in ten years as "a James McMurtry." The album "Live in Aught-Three" proves my power trio theory to be completely true, and McMurtry and his bandmates make a joyful fucking noise indeed. FYI, they're playing at the Aardvark in Fort Worth next Friday, the 19th.
Speaking of which, I'm gonna fly back to the nest for now - thanks for hanging out with me today. I might be back later. We're doing sweet F.A. this weekend, hopefully.
Lust, laughs and more -
GGD.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
posted by No, You Can't Watch at 3:53 PM
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