Turn it up

[sam]

Broken bins, broken bikes.



Yes, there's a crack in this particular thing.

"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places," said Hemingway, not talking about bikes. "It'll take about a month," said Jim at Enigma, a shaft of light piercing the gloom of the shed and landing on Langster.

[sam]

This chap and I had a chat today about my Monoclonal Gammopathy of (may it ever remain) Undetermined Significance.



I'm assuming in his spare time he moonlights at CERN and battles inter-dimensional beings in the Matterhorn.

[sam]

Having been blown away by Deadwood, I followed Timothy Olyphant over to Justified, which is a whole lot of fun.

Worth a longer listen?

The jury is still out. On the other hand,

hopped straight onto my playlist, and brought company.

[Joe Cocker]

[The Whale]

[Shuffle]

Singing "This'll be the day that I die" to a 45 in the basement worried my mother for a while. It's not something you want to hear out of your teenage son when depression runs in the family. Along with the spelling quiz offered by the Bay City Rollers, and Be Careful What You Wish For by Mr. M. Loaf, this was one of the lyrics which took long term residence in a recess of my brain. Fortunately I was never quizzed about eternal anatomical vistas offered by internal motor vehicle illumination.

A few years later, the homestead in Ohio in the rearview mirror, the tail end of my teens also had a soundtrack scored by lust just as nature intended. Saturday nights in the shared Brooklyn apartment where I slept on the couch for a few months in the summer of '85 were spent sliding around in socks on the polished wood floor when everyone else was out, not exactly singing, but definitely emanating impatience. Some of us would have virginity thrust upon us by fate until quite late, even by the standards of the time.

Though I still prefer the original, this is also great, and has the perfect look. The violin is a nice touch.

I did marry a Catholic girl. Can't say religion never entered the equation without breaking the IXth. The Virgin Mary would be horrified to know that we leapt into la petite mort unblessed by the sacrament of marriage, but then she herself stole all the bases.

[Humbug]

In the news lately there as bin a lot ov 'Blue', but I would like ter big up 'The Hissin ov Summer Lawns' meself. I truly believe this is the original but as the puter is soundless I will av ter take it on trust. Ere's ter Joni!

[sam]

That knocked the needle out of the groove, thanks.

"The Jungle Line", driven by a newly-purchased synthesizer and tribal drumming, is typically singled out as the record's most glaring anomaly, but thematically it's possibly Hissing's most perfect microcosm. The song directly evokes Mitchell’s cover painting: grey and sickly green in the stark, primitivist style of French painter Henri Rousseau, whom Joni reanimates as a predatory force in her song.

It brought to mind Rhythm of the Saints, if only because Simon's songs made it into my head first. I went on to sample the rest of the album, staying longest on In France They Kiss On Main Street and Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow ("A head full of quandary and a mighty mighty mighty thirst").

Thanks to a half-remembered quote from an interview, I can't think of Mitchell without Dylan barging in. She comes across as having an artistic integrity that he lacks, but music works its magic regardless of rules.

[Shuffle]

Dedicated to Reuben Garrett Lucius Goldberg, born this day 1883.

(Bikespotting @ 3.18)

The opening scene had me thinking Saw, so I was relieved when those other guys showed up splashed with different colours of paint.

Love the purple uniforms in this version.

[Shuffle]

What this thread is missing is Tanita

and some yodelling.

On my first end-to-end, when my Walkman wasn't playing Dylan, it was usually playing Tikaram. (If she didn't rate a mention in that account, I'm sure you can understand how Bob was more in keeping with the mood.) She'd be one of my desert island discs.