He's Real Smart With A Real Big Heart

The whole gosh-darned family has been sick for over a week. We're all sick and tired of being sick and tired. And what I'm most over at the moment is the 2:00 a.m. eyes-popping-open-for-no-reason-other-than-I'm-hopped-up-on-cold-medicine routine that I've gotten into. And every danged morning last week, the same danged song was on a very fast and loud repeat in my looped out brain. I think this one got stuck when I stumbled upon the tail end of the movie Sweet Home Alabama (more than once, I might add) while home on the couch trying not to cough up both lungs. I'm a total Dolly fan (she's made an appearance here before,) but this song at that time of morning...it's just not working for me. Please for the love of all that is good and holy, make it stop! I just fell asleep while typing that.

There Is This Old Woman

I know I've mentioned this in previous posts (and I know that no one really cares,) but the state of Atlanta radio these days...Oy Vey! Yesterday, one of the good ones (which is currently functioning like a jukebox because they fired all the DJ's three weeks early to prep the switch to 24/7 sports talk...slaps forehead and roles eyes...) was playing the Pixies. There will be no other station in this town that will play this kind of music in the foreseeable future. Disgraceful! Apparently the demographic that enjoys good music no longer listens to the radio. Except for me. Go figure.

Anyway, Dig for Fire is a great song and I hadn't heard it in quite a while. It made me happy and now it's so stuck in my head. When Hubby and I first moved to Atlanta we stood in a crowd in the pouring rain in Midtown, wearing our most fashionable emergency ponchos, and giggled like teenagers at the fact that we were getting to see the Pixies, LIVE, at last! I realize they tour and stuff now, but this was a BIG deal (to me anyway) in 2005. I totally remember doing that thing where you call all your besties and hold your phone up during your fave song, thinking that you're sharing this incredible moment with them, and that they're on the other end of the line rocking out and being jealous of you, when what's really going on is they can't actually hear what you're hearing and they wonder if you butt dialed them, and when you don't answer all their frantic cries of "HELLO??" they just hang up, but you still think they're there thinking about how cool you are, so you keep holding your phone up (in the rain) like an idiot. Good times! I'm pretty sure these days there is no way in hell I'd stand in a thunderstorm to watch anyone play, so really Black Francis and crew should consider themselves lucky.

Fun Friday factoid: Dig For Fire is apparently a tribute song to The Talking Heads. MmmHmmm.

Side bar: This Dig for Fire link has nothing to do with the Pixies and most certainly deserves a post all its own, but just trust me that it's worth checking out. Music saves, people!

I Love My Whiskey And I Love My Gin

So, I've been off the grid for a week now and that was all awesome and stuff, and there was lots of nature (read, bugs,) and quality family time, and blah, blah, blah, but I'm back and I've got a ton of random schizer stuck in my head so get ready! I'm sure all five of my readers have been anxiously awaiting my return with bated breath, so let's just jump right in here. Somehow during our time in The Natural State my cousin tricked me into listening to a lot of Old Crow Medicine Show and enjoying it. I must have been distracted by all the cuteness he was doling out on Bug. He drew him this picture at Bug's request. Both of them seeing no reason why an Air Whale (our new family band name, btw) can't exist in real life. (First single, Lonesome Hay Bale. Gonna have a wicked harmonica solo. Get into it.) Anyway, the combo of this new found friendship and the copious amounts of red wine I'd consumed had me happily tapping my feet along to the OCMS version of Cocaine Habit (or Take a Whiff on Me.)

Now this little piece of Americana has been covered by everyone from Woody Guthrie to the White Stripes, Jerry Garcia to the Flying Burrito Brothers (and a whole slew of others from the late 1920s to the present date,) but the Old Crow Medicine Show version had us all kicking our boots in the mud by the fire (while we were discussing the possibilities of string theory and theoretical physics...I kid you not. Staring at so many stars for so long tends to shift your perspective on things a bit.) Anyway, my point being that no matter what you're doing or debating or discussing right now, you can kick your boots a little bit while you listen. It feels pretty good. 'Specially if there's mud on 'em.

I May Find Myself Delayed

As predicted, my previous post has launched this morning's earworm. That one instrumental line (you know the one I mean) from Kiss Them for Me a la Siouxsie and the Banshees has been on a constant loop in my head for the past 48 hours. I remember really liking this song when I was like 13, I had the cassette and everything (I even remember what the cover looked like,) but I can honestly say I don't recall a single other song on the album. I think I was just pretending to like them because that song was cool at the time. Yes I was a tad insecure in my younger days and fully admit to being "une poseur" occasionally. Which sounds even lamer considering the band we're talking about. But had I done a little digging into Ms. Sioux back in the day I probably would have discovered that she was pretty effing rad. I mean, she covers Dear Prudence, for crying out loud. Awesome. And loads of folks regard her as one of the original female punk icons. I did not know that. She hung out with the Sex Pistols, her songs have been covered by everyone from Jeff Buckley to TV On The Radio, and she still looks smokin' in her 50's. And here's this fun Friday factoid for you: the band provided original songs for both Showgirls and Batman Returns, and Siousxie herself was considered for the role of Cat Woman in the latter. Wonder how Michelle Pfeiffer would've taken that news?

I'm really glad the poodle made the casting call. Too bad about all that wasted champagne though.

And All Of The Ghouls Come Out To Play

So, it's come to my attention that I might like Florence and the Machine (despite the fact that every time I hear her I think of a more warbly Siouxsie and The Banshees. And yes, Siouxsie is still around and looking damn fine! I predict a future blog post...now back to Florence.) I mean, I don't change the channel when she comes on the radio, and I can dig most of the songs that have made it to the air waves. Plus she's got one of those voices that can be fun to belt along to when I'm singing really loud in my car. Unfortunately, I probably won't be hearing much more of her on the ATL radio (or anyone else I care to listen to) since yet another radio station in this town just bit the dust. It will now be all sports talk. Even though we already have one of those (plus one on the AM dial...just how much sports can the human ear stand?!) And this after my other fave station went to 24 hour news (because that's necessary even though the majority of us are bombarded with news updates on the interwebs all day.) What about the music, Atlanta?!? For those of us with busted CD players and cars too old to have auxiliary hook ups, this is a total bummer. But I digress...

Shake it Out is a pretty powerful tune and Flo totally rocks it, but I caught her doing a few songs on SNL recently and I thought my ears were going to melt. She was god awful live. I'm not sure she hit one solid right note. But maybe it was just a fluke. Or maybe my ears were out of tune that day. At the very least I know she wasn't lip syncing (ooh, take that Ashlee Simpson!)

Anyway, I'm not really sure I know what's happening in this video, but she is singing about burying some poor old horse, so perhaps this is some sort of sacrificial ritual? That involves masks? And some interpretive tango? And a crystal ball. Obvs. Or maybe it's a seance to contact the horse. Apparently it's just too cerebral for the likes of me. Looks like a fun party though.