Story of Love of music.
I have an east-coast tour almost cemented, and too save money for the trip. I have cut back on all the things I don’t need. My apologies to fat boys, but I have decided that at least 3 of my coffees are going to homemade drip coffee (sort of the equivalent of replacing beer with urine in my mind). I will not smoke cigarettes, unless someone offers me one, (or I am drunk and someone around me is smoking). I will not buy more that 3 drinks for myself from a bar. Tallies from the bottolo before I go out if possible. No eating out, only home cooked meals.
You think by these standards, I would be doing well on my mission to saving money. But there is one addiction I cannot flick. I walk past a c.d. store on the way to a meeting at these deals are amazing 4 frank sanatra cds for $20. Late at night in my apartment, I hear the troubadour calling me ‘Edward….. Edward…….. ‘.
In a cold sweat this morning I got up and put my old cd’s on. The ones with dust on the packages. I started with ‘Phoenix’ while lying in Bed answering my my-space mail and emails, while making my first homemade coffee of the day, I was listening to Kat Flints first ep, and album that usually does the job for two reasons. The really good shit, is the stuff that no-one else in this city listens too, but also is solid and pop driven, therefore, I can listen to nice pop melodies, and also feel highbrow, for listening to something underground.
This eased my shakes, but once it was over, I was going though my cd’s and records looking for something that I haven’t listened too, which will sound fresh. I tried turning on the radio, Triple J first, ‘ahhhh what the fuck is this? NAS Hip Hop is dead?, what the fuck? everyone in the world has heard this song’, I cannot get 4zzz in my apartment, which is either the truth, or a somewhat neutral comment about local radio.
I gave up on radio, once again trying to find a record that sounds new. A new record or c.d. for me is characterized buy the fact that it does not remind me of a period of time I have already been though.
‘Adam Ant’, no that reminds me of my house in the 80′s dancing with my mother and aunt, ‘Air’ that reminds me of my ex, ‘Alice Cooper’ my dad and my old friend Blake Young, ‘Aphex Twin’ driving to surfs at 3am on a whim with my friend Randall, ‘Ben Harper’ my high-school Girl Friend(s), ‘The Boat People’ too many fucking memories, why do too of my best mates have to be in with band.’Bob Dylan’ Blake Young,
I was going to list them all, But just released that my music collection, really is a library, and yes I am bragging (exaggerating) when I say that it would be like going though the city library worth of books.
So I am setting here listening to ‘weasels ripped my flesh, zappa’ shaking, and looking for a rehabilitation clinic in the whitepages (online, the fact those enviromental vandalls still deliver books to my door, its a crime). They are all about fuckin drugs and alcohol, where is one for a music addict. (I haven’t even gone into what my music, has done to my standard of living, I haven’t even written about how before I left for europe, I lived off one four dollar breakfast a day).
Amen
