TWO THOUSAND AND NINE

It struck me a few weeks ago that I can no longer really tell 1995 from 2005. Time is starting to bend back around like a sled rail, and the years are beginning to loop.

So welcome 2009. Or 1999. Or 1989. Whatever.

FF 2008

So, Pitchfork gave album of the year to Fleet Foxes.

I like foxes. They're cute.

I like fleet. The adjective. Not the naval formation or the enema so much.

But Fleet Foxes kind of bore me. Like The Band or honking something.

I can't claim to have a cinemascopic view of 2008, but I'm going to stick with Nouns by No Age as my top pick...

TRAILER-LA-LA-LA

Um, yeah, OK. So it turns out the “dudes getting' facials” song was not actually Gay-Porn Country.

I had to do some digging to figure this out, though.

See, the singer's name is Brad Paisley. Which is really a perfect name for a Gay-Porn Country star, when you get right down to it.

The title of the song? “I'm Still a Guy.” Again, Gay-Porn Country gold.

But then the rest of the lyrics give it away. I mean, here's the opening couplet:

“When you see a deer you see Bambi,
And I see antlers up on the wall.”

So it appears this is from the more familiar Dumbfuck White-Trash Redneck Country genre.

Apologies for the mixup, y'all.

MINI PEARLS

I was one lane over from a white pickup truck yesterday, when I heard this blarin’ from a cracked window: “There’s dudes gettin’ facials…”

The light changed before I could hear any more than this g-droppin’ snippet.

But my wonderin’ ears were delighted to have happened upon a genre that I ain’t never encountered before: Gay-Porn Country.

I mean, I am got-dagblasted proud to be livin’ in a nation that is so all-fire inclusive and open-minded as to welcome this particular style of music into its Fords and Chevys. I’m wipin’ a tear from my eye.

Bravo, ‘Merica. Bra-feckin'-vo.

LISTEN TO THE SILENCE

I shitcanned the Sirius today, after three years of service.

The display on my car receiver bit the dust several months ago. I found out that my unit was obsolete, and if I wanted to replace it, I'd need to install new rigging along with the new radio.

This sealed the deal for me. I'm not about to get stuck on a hardware upgrade/replacement merry-go-round, particularly for the sake of a pay service.

Things I liked about Sirius:
-Initial exposure to some good bands: Arcade Fire, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, No Age, etc.
-Genre/era immersion. In a 70s mood? Got you covered.
-Lack of commercials.
-24-hour Rolling Stones channel.
-Andrew Loog Oldham, for that matter.
-The artist/title scroll.
-2008 Dolphins football.

Things I didn't like about Sirius:
-Crap bands like Klaxons.
-Classic rock immersion. In a Kansas mood? Seriously? Are you? What the fuck is wrong with you, anyway?
-Heard Stereolab once in the entire three years. Neon Beanbag. Last week.
-24-hour AC/DC channel. That's 12 hours of AC, and 12 hours of DC. Sorry, the catalogue just does not warrant that kind of coverage.
-Bandwidth compression. They might as well be broadcasting in mono.
-2007 Dolphins football.

Things that left me nonplussed about Sirius:
-Mediocre bands, too numerous to mention.
-Disc jockeys. The discs don't need no jockeying when you got the artist/title scroll.
-24-hour Bruce Springsteen channel. I suppose.
-XM merger. Meh.

I'm enough of a milestone junkie to be a little saddened that it's over.

Good luck, satrad. I think you'll be needing it...

IN THIS EVER CHANGING WORLD IN WHICH WE LIVE IN

Why “I want to go to there” is not a catchphrase sweeping the nation, I just don’t know.

The asses who like to spout catchphrases should be exhausted by now with spouting this.

It’s like a prime-period Wings song: simpleminded and syntactically wobbly, but with an economical genius that will make it stick in your head for weeks on end.

Go to 4:15 here for an example...

D&D

Last week I downloaded the four Derek and the Dominoes songs that I like: Bell Bottom Blues, Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad, Little Wing, and Layla. That's a magisterially fecked up collection of tunes right there.

And as an added bonus, the iPod truncates the album title as follows: Layla and Other Ass.

Which might be a more accurate title, when you get right down to it...

HOLA

And forgive me if those 10 “chapter” entries were deca WTF. I was serializing the opening of my micro-novel, Halo.

The micro-novel is designed to be a quick jolt of a story-- maybe 50 to 75 chapters that you could take down in an hour-- with lots of silent spaces and nooks.

So, the disappearing telephone wires in Chapter 1 could bring to mind broken conversations. And the selected voice (“would stretch out”) could add to that sense of disconnectedness. And/or the scene could be meant to convey a dark, overcast early fall afternoon.

Mind you, I wouldn't argue with the position that the enterprise to date is a complete and abject failure.

But fuck, points for trying, right?

IT'S A MIGHTY LONG WAY DOWN ROCK AND ROLL

I just went from DC to Detroit, Detroit to South Bend, South Bend to Detroit, Detroit to Memphis, and Memphis to DC, with some driving from South Bend back into Michigan, and from Memphis into Mississippi. In the span of 36 hours.

Before I left, I dropped a certain song on my iPod. It was like filling a canteen with water.

So as the bell rang on board my last leg this afternoon, I plugged in my earphones and listened to All the Way From Memphis by Mott the Hoople.

I was slaked, and I made it home alive...