I must have woken up in a rare mood of sentimentality on September 23, because when I got in my car and heard the first droning, synth-y chords of Alphaville’s “Forever Young,” something strange happened in my chest. It wasn’t sadness or despair, but it wasn’t particularly positive (though I can’t say I often feel enthusiastic about this song or the band I now know to be Alphaville). I knew it would be stuck in my head all day if I let it play—and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to change the radio station.
This was the day before my 24th (golden) birthday, which to many people might serve as an explanation for unidentifiable negative emotions. After all, who wants to listen to a song about eternal youth on repeat on the eve of a birthday?!
Continue reading “Aging Gracefully, According to a 24-Year-Old”
Don’t get me wrong– one day I might acquire the new Bob Dylan album, but I won’t be buying it. Maybe my hipster parents will deign to pick up a copy at some point. Then maybe I can copy theirs. Not that I do that sort of thing. But, you know. Just in case the mood strikes. But I doubt it will.
Here’s the thing: Bob Dylan is the shit. Not shit. The shit. He will always be. But it’s like… remember when everyone thought Keith Richards snorted his father’s ashes? And we were all, like, “holy fuck, Keith Richards, why are you such a heartless… wow, like, whyyyy?” Continue reading “I will not be buying the new Bob Dylan album”
I just added a new mix to 8tracks, and awesome site where you can just tell it a number of songs to play in whatever order you choose, and then people listen to the mix. They can rate it, send feedback, or whatever else.
I think the term “mixologist” used to just be for bartenders. Now, of course, we believe differently.
There are a few other mixes of mine that you can access through my profile on the site, if you so choose. This newest one I made to accompany job hunting and the tedious task of filling out applications. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately, and some good music really helps.
It’s taken me a long time to warm up to Regina Spektor. I’m not sure I knew who she was or had heard her music until I got to college. When I first heard her, my reaction was strong and negative. Her music was almost intolerable to me. I hated the inconsistency of her voice. Some of her vocal acrobatics made me really uncomfortable, and I remember squirming at the brashness of the lyrics.
Continue reading “You can write, but you can’t edit”
Some people have memories of childhood that involve getting stuck in one of those blow-up bouncy castles as it collapses, or longboarding in a parking garage in the wee hours of the morning.
One of my clearest memories from my early teens takes place in Ellensburg, Washington. Most Washingtonians consider Ellensburg the scourge of the earth, but I’ve always had a soft spot for it. I was visiting a close family friend with my parents, and we were gearing up for another friend’s barbecue/chili cookoff. It was to be quite an event: at least a dozen different types of chili, a spiciness contest, a cornbread contest, plus live entertainment. Surprisingly, I don’t remember the food much at all, but I remember distinctly the two songs I was supposed to participate in: “Quinn the Eskimo” (a sing-along extravaganza with live backup band) and this song, which I found sad and beautiful and everything I would want my life to be if I were a true cowgirl.
As I remember, I was invited to sing this song as a solo, and I would ride in on a horse and sing it from there with a single guitar accompaniment. I was never a confident soloist and got cold feet like crazy, so another girl (a gorgeous, seventeen year old, real live cowgirl) did the whole bit. I was so jealous and remember complaining to my mom about it, but what could she say? I’d had neither the confidence nor the preparation to perform it.
This is one of those songs that I searched for for years, finally landing on it and being surprised to find that I love it as much as I ever did. It’s not the usual thing I post, but listen.
“It Hurts Me Too” by folk artist Karen Dalton.
No one seems to be sure whether she influenced Bob Dylan, or if it’s the other way around.
I can’t get over her voice. It’s so old-time jazzy (think Billie Holiday), but works perfectly with her guitar style. So… jury’s still out on this one, but I’ll get back to you.
And this one. Alright, I’ll admit I like this one mostly for the French sous-titres. Subtitles. :)
Song of the day.
I have another one for later, when the sun goes down.