Lazing on a Sunday afternoon


It’s cold, it’s damp, and it’s raining. Miserable, some would say. Not me. I like these days. The wife is out shopping for groceries, and due to the economy this means that she must go to a number of different stores to get the best “deals”; one place for the produce, one for the meat and one particular retail giant that shall remain nameless for the obscure and extremely personal hygiene items. She will be gone for hours.

The girls, my 2 daughters, are playing nicely in the bedroom of the younger of the two, and I, obviously, am at the computer blogging. Listening to tunes. A rare moment of clarity, a time where I can throw on 5 cd’s of varying genres and tempos and chill. I choose the Stones “Exile On Main Street, Wilco’s A Ghost Is Born, Argybargy by Squeeze, the Flaming Lips Embryonic and Rubber Soul by the Beatles. An eclectic mix to be sure, but satisfying to the max, for your humble host is currently finishing off his 3rd gin and coke, since there is no tonic to be found anywhere in the whole damn house. One makes due with what one has, yes?

I’m not a great drinker anymore. My acid reflux took care of that. But I used to be; a great drinker, that is. And, when the mood erupts and I have taken care not to consume any food that would aggravate my particular condition, I can treat myself to a drinky-poo or two. In this case, three. And when presented with this kind of unique and exceedingly rare opportunity I listen to my tuneage at the maximum volume possible, taking great care to make sure that the two young women in the house are safe, secure and have their green foam earplugs firmly in place. It’s’ a great and rare thing to be able to listen to music on the BIG STEREO nowadays. Earbuds can’t hold a candle to 150 watts of power blazing through two smallish but very powerful poly propylene stereo speakers.

The music sounds great, new even, and my toes are-a-tappin’ at a frantic rate. I’m moved to dance. Go grab my daughters, who will be at the age soon where they will be invited to school dances, and teach them about the boys who will attempt the “white man’s overbite” to impress them. They laugh, of course, because daddy’s an oldish coot who is a tad out of shape. But they know, really KNOW that daddy knows about music; what’s good and decent, and what’s not. They know the difference, damn it, and it will help them in the years to come. If I have anything to do with it they will stand out in the hallways of high school by their superior knowledge of “good music”.


Squeeze. Great band, underrated, although the whole “Lennon/McCartney & Difford/Tillbrook comparison was unrealistic and unfair. Especially to Difford and Tillbrook. Still…really fantastic band. I must listen to them more,

The Rolling Stones Exile On Main Street. It really, really deserves the hype. Forget all that nonsense about the home in France, the drugs, the whole tax-exile thing. Bloody good tunes, that’s all it were.

Ebryonic by the Flaming Lips? Well…I don’t listen to it all that much, that’s all I can say about it. My advice to the guys: Stop trying to be artsy fartsy and write some good tunes. And tell that producer of yours, you know, that bassist from Mercury Rev, to stop with the distortion. Please?

Wilco’s A Ghost In Born remains a fantastic album. I like it better than Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but not nearly as much as Summerteeth, their absolute masterpiece. It’s still great, and Handshake Drugs, along with Theologians, are two of their best and most underrated songs.

Rubber Soul, the younger more naïve twin of the more lysergic Revolver, is still an interesting listen, mostly due to the fact that it was the first to open the doors of perception for the four likely lads from Liverpool.

Am I sounding a little like Charlie Sheen? I sure hope not. Or, maybe so. The dude lives by the beat of a different drummer, which is a little inspiring, if not frightening. No escaping this bozo nowadays, is there? He may be a little wonky, but he’s living life the way his deranged mind tells him is the right way to live it.

I am a freaking Warlock!

Gotta respect him for that.

Signing out…