I’ve been on a lot of overnight trips for work lately (the last one is today: hooray) and I have to say that there is one good thing about driving the company car. That thing is that it has a cassette player. I don’t have anywhere to play a cassette tape anymore, so each time I take a trip I open the plastic tub full of tapes in the guest room closet, blindly grab a few, and head off to some rural location to impart my wisdom there, where those in attendance will eye me with suspicion and then fall asleep during my presentation.

For the trip at the beginning of the month, I enjoyed a mix tape from May 1994 (labelled “May 1994″) that had the Posies, Mary Wilson, and Kermit the Frog on it. My trip last week was Ella Fitzgerald Sings Gershwin and They Might Be Giants’ Flood. Today it’s Velvet Crush’s Teenage Symphonies to God and John Wesley Harding’s Here Comes the Groom. What’s serendipitous about those two tapes is that I bought them in Columbus at the Wall’s there — y’all remember how they had all those burned up tapes? my Velvet Crush case barely opens because it’s all melty, though the tape itself is ok — and today I’m headed for Columbus.

In unrelated news, last night I finished reading Tobias Wolff’s Old School, and here is my review: Did you like Dead Poets Society? Then read Old School. I’m also reading Anne Fadiman’s At Large and At Small, which is not as good as Ex Libris, but is still excellent.

And speaking of wordy things, guess what Wednesday starts? National Poetry Month! You know you’ve been missing it. Last year the birth of that baby sort of screwed up NPM, but unless I am soon to be featured on an episode of Discovery Health’s I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant (they had a marathon of this last night, y’all!), I intend to post a poem every day. Whether you like it or not.

Also, did I tell you I was in the Cringe book? I’m telling you this now because I finally emailed the boy I wrote about and he emailed me back and that is funny so ok that’s all I wanted to say.

This afternoon “To Be With You” came on the radio and I was thinking that the whole song is ruined by one word: next. “Just to be the next to be with you”? Couldn’t it have just been “just to be the one to be with you”? How much nicer would it have been that way? Next means that a) there is a line of dudes at the ready and b) they will ALL get their turn. Maybe she should pass out numbers or something.

Huh. Seven days into NaBloPoMo and I am already bored with the concept.

Fellow DVR-ers, let me tell you something: you need to start recording 120 Minutes off of VH1 Classic. It’s usually on at like 3 in the morning on random days of the week, and when you feel like watching tv but cannot handle another police procedural — actually, this never happens; I am always in the mood for another police procedural — you will have two glorious hours of videos from bands you used to love.

Larry and I have been doing this lately, and people: it is delightful. Last night we got to see lots of great things, like the Smiths’ incredibly boring video for “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” and the Boomtown Rats’ video for “I Don’t Like Mondays,” which led Larry to say, “I’m surprised you know this song,” which enraged my 80s sensibilities and led me to snottily pontificate upon the new wave/alternative music radio options in Dallas in the mid- to late 80s, which I’m sure he wanted to hear.

In other news, you know that Project Runway starts tonight, right? I don’t care if she doesn’t know how to put a diaper on correctly; I love the Klum.

• Is anyone watching Mad Men? Did you see the season finale? Did you see the part where Peggy has been getting chunky throughout the season and then the part where she had a stomachache and went to the doctor and ended up WITH A BABY? Horrible, awful Pete’s baby? I can’t stop thinking about it. I really wish someone else watched this show besides me. Larry can only hear me say “I can’t believe Peggy had a baby!” so many times.

Top Model: so far, my favorites are Heather (duh) and Lisa and Sarah. Jenah and I are not speaking due to her unspeakable weave, but she takes great photos. I am gunning for Chantal and/or Bianca to get the axe next.

Dear The Office: I am very glad you’re moving back to 30-minute episodes this week. I love you, but it turns out it’s conditional.

• Quiz–Which One of These Soft Rock Easy Favorites Did I Download This Weekend?

a) “How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees
b) “I’d Really Like to See You Tonight” by England Dan and John Ford Coley
c) “Everything I Own” by Bread
d) “All Out of Love” by Air Supply

• I did not wrap Christmas presents this weekend, but I did make a pan of the most delicious brownies known to man. First, get a box of brownie mix. Once everything is mixed, dump in about a teaspoon of peppermint extract. Then, once the batter is in the pan, sprinkle old mint swirl chips that you found in your pantry from last Christmas on top. Bake, and enjoy the minty smells as they waft through your house. Later, experience minty fudgy goodness and marvel at your baking skills.

• Oh, and speaking of food, we are once again friends! Reunited and it feels so good, etc. Goodbye, nausea. I hope we have broken up for good.

I saw Morrissey last Thursday! You know, at a concert. Not like walking around. But still, it was, in a word, oh-some. (more…)

1. “Bette Davis Eyes” came on the radio yesterday while I was at lunch and the dj said that it was number one for 9 weeks in 1981. I tried to listen to it as if I’d never heard it before to see if I could identify the source of its popularity (this is a fun game and also a great justification to listen to cruddy songs, especially if you get caught: “I was studying the subtle subtext of this Bread song. Not enjoying it at all. I promise.”). I was a little intrigued not by Kim Carnes’ gravelly voice, but by her just plain bizarre inflections. It’s like a gentler, kinder version of Tourette’s Syndrome with a wee bit of not-invented-yet uptalking.

My favorite part was the growly, muppety way she said “precocious.” Kind of like she was that Amy Poehler SNL character Kaitlin (“Rick! Rick! Rick! Rick!”) if Kaitlin routinely sang songs about ladies who know what it takes to make a pro blush.

2. On the way home from work I heard “Every Breath You Take” — I always get tricked into thinking it’s going to be “I’ll Be Missing You” instead of the original, and then I am let down — and I convinced myself that if you strain your ears a little, it sounds like he’s saying “I’ll be washing you.” I can’t believe, in the spirit of Crumbelievable, that no soap executive has picked up on this.

3. Speaking of pop songs, I think I’ve linked to these before, but have you people read John Moe’s Pop Song Correspondences? They are all exquisite in their own way, but this one and this one are my favorites.

Larry and I were taking Lulu for a walk Friday night and Larry found a cd. Anytime I’ve ever found a lone cd on the street or in a parking lot, it’s always scratched up or is broken or is by an artist I’ve never heard of. But this, what a find! It’s a mix cd with songs that you know and love! Some that you know and tolerate! Some that you don’t know at all! We had just had margaritas and I was a little overenthusiastic about finding this, so if you live in Belhaven and heard someone shrieking, THIS IS THE BEST MIX CD EVER!!!! Friday night as I was trying to read the track list by streetlight, that was me. (more…)

Whoo! All this posting every single day with no cheating is wearing me out!

So.

Friday night we went to Oxford for the Pernice show. (more…)

On Monday when I took a totally unnecessary day off just because I could, I rearranged some furniture — one of my most favorite things to do, especially when no one is home to say “are you sure that’ll fit there? let’s measure first” — and in the process had to unload/reload a cabinet that houses all my cds. I found some I forgot I had, some I hadn’t loaded into iTunes (uh, is that the expression? “loaded into iTunes”? “uploaded to my computer”? wha?), and some that I thought were long gone. Along with a lot of empty cd cases that give me stress but that I’m trying not to think about. (more…)

The other night at the Cherokee, Gorjus was in charge of the jukebox. As a result, we got several rounds of the Marshall Tucker Band (and a debate about what the song was called; I thought it was “Purdy Little Love Song,” but apparently it is “Heard It in a Love Song”) along with some “Beast of Burden” (required of all jukeboxes everywhere) and some other things that we could barely hear (but then when the frat boys with the mauve* shorts played “Californication” it was cranked up).

When a Cracker song came on, La Cat mentioned that she saw a Counting Crows and Cracker** show sometime in the 90s and that before the show, Adam Duritz autographed her friend’s boob at a convenience store. There was much talk about how Counting Crows and Cracker pretty much epitomize a 90s concert. And then we all vied for the honor of having seen the Most 90s Concert Ever.

The submissions at the table:

Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers — Jaxxie
Redd Kross, Us 3, Lemonheads, Matthew Sweet — Sally
Screaming Trees, Soul Asylum — Jaxxie
Juliana Hatfield, Flock of Seagulls, Violent Femmes — Gorjus
Club Mtv To Go Presents Kathy Dennis, Color Me Badd, Vanilla Ice, Hammer — Jaysus***

It is probably better for everyone that I failed to write down who saw Sheryl Crowe with Eagle-Eye Cherry. And I have a feeling it was Jaxxie, who apparently just went to a concert every night with no regard to who was playing, who saw Cypress Hill and Bad Brains. I can see her putting on her eyeliner and asking her roommate, Who is it tonight? Cypress Hill? Good times.

*Oscar Wilde said, “Never trust a woman who wewars mauve, whatever her age may be.” I think this goes double for frat boys.
**Once I was watching MTV with my dad and a Cracker video was playing. I told him I would give him $100 if he could guess the name of the band. He guessed The Electric Bananas.
***Just lost all his indie street cred.

So we have this new car at my house, and I have been driving it. (more…)

Y’all should go read this story about the evolution of the song “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” — from African megahit “Mbube” to the doo-wop song you hopefully all know, unless you are too young for such things. If that’s the case, you should listen to the oldies station more often. There’s also an audio dealie where you can hear the original and four other versions.

My March list is about songs that remind me of specific things or people, and seven days in I have realized a few things:

a. Every song reminds me of something.
b. Songs I love and listen to over and over have fewer memories attached to them because I have listened to them 1 million times. See: Morrissey, Steven.
c. Therefore, most of the songs are just, you know, songs, not songs I particularly am in love with.
d. Which is sort of weird.
e. But still kind of cool that memories have a soundtrack, even if it’s not a particularly compelling or poignant one.
f. That is all.

Note to FBI: Morrissey ain’t a terrorist. However, he is still ill.

(Thanks to bulb for the link.)

I have been meaning to write a treatise on why the James Blunt song “You’re Beautiful” is a horrid, awful thing, and then I forget and I see the video or hear the song on the radio or see the incessant commercial on VH1 touting James Blunt and his “strangely angelic” voice as something I should revere instead of loathe, and then I get mad all over again and so here it is.