It’s one more random than 10!
We put the storm windows down last night. That’s the most depressing weather day of the year for me, because it’s like being put on weather death row. Of course, at least I’m doing it in October now instead of August.
1) “If You Want Blood, You Got It,” AC/DC. Well hel-fucking-lo! One of my favorite AC/DC openings because the riff is all peppy, and then Bon Scott comes in sounding like a meth-addicted frog. If I was ever at a fancy dinner with a shady underworld character a la Indiana Jones and he poisoned me with a Coldplay martini (or, more likely, a Coldplay Cosmo), this would be the antidote. Bonus if I had to reach down TLB’s dress to get it because that’s such a Bon Scott move.
2) “Strangers,” Portishead. One of those beats where it is impossible to avoid the head bob. You could play this at a funeral for a puppy that pulled a busload of children out of a volcano, only to then get run over by the bus, and everyone would be bobbing through the tears.
3) “Everywhere I Go,” The Call. This song came out roughly around the time I learned to drive, and I could never not drive fast when I heard it. We owned a Vanagon then, and the minute this song started, I punched it and made those four hamsters in the engine run as fast as possible. This is why you don’t give new drivers fast cars. Also, while I’m not blaming music for making me drive like I was in a real life version of Spy Hunter, music definitely me made want to drive like I had just stolen a sensible-if-underpowered family-style minivan. That’s why Libby will have no speakers in her first car.
4) “When Doves Cry,” Prince. I would enjoy Prince’s music much more if it didn’t make me think of Prince. What part of oily, permed, garden gnome in platform boots and a thong sounds sexy?
5) “Fly By Night,” Rush. First, I nearly jizzed in my pants when I saw this commercial. I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO DOES THIS! I NO LONGER HAVE TO LIVE A LIFE OF SHAME AT THE STOPLIGHT DURING “TOM SAWYER.”
Second, Rush is finally on the ballot for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Our long North American nightmare may be over! Up until yesterday, I took the party line of fuck those bitches, the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame is bullshit. Today I’m like, Let them in, you sons of bitches. Bumpuses! Because I want my validation as a Rush fan. That’s sad, I know, but the documentary started it, and now that I see my favorite band being used to sell attractive German cars that need new electrical systems by the time you drive them home from the lot, I want even more mainstream acceptance. Plus, they are on the ballot with Public Enemy and N.W.A., and I really want to see an onstage medley of “911 Is a Joke/Fuck Da Police/Xanadu.”
6) “Don’t Stand So Close to Me (orginal, non-asswipe version),” The Police. My fantasy football league has four teachers in it, and one of them was a member of the Chicago Teacher’s Union. He is also our league treasurer, and like every fantasy league, we have The Guy Who Doesn’t Pay. That guy is Pancake Z, who has never, ever paid his dues, but somehow always wins enough to not owe money. It’s become such an issue we officially call them dueZ. So during the strike, we wanted our CTU member to march with a sign that said, “Z, pay your dueZ.” I would have plotzed if that would have shown up on the news (or newZ), but sadly, he didn’t do it.
7) “Wrapped Up in Books,” Belle & Sebastian. TLB and I are both firmly immersed in novel writing right now, and for the first time, probably at about the same point in the process, pounding out a shitty first draft. This leads to a lot of book conversations, especially at night when we are supposed to be going to sleep but wind up talking characters and structure and dick jokes for 45 minutes (well, one of us talks about dick jokes). For me, though, it feels a lot like talking to a professional trainer about doing squats. One of us already has two novels published, including one that was a bestseller in Italy, and also teaches writing to people who pay extravagant private school prices. Hint: It’s not the one discussing dick jokes. I imagine it’s a bit like a married porn couple where everyone knows the wife but no one recognizes the husband until he drops his pants.
8) “21 Guns,” Green Day. I’ll tell you what’s killing rock and roll: it’s not downloading and mashups and dubstep and laptop beats. It’s one of the few bonafide rock stars we have going into rehab for swearing in public. What. The. Fuck? Back in the golden age, that’s what stars did after getting out of rehab, because it meant they weren’t zonked out on some Mexican zoo tranquilizers that they got from David Crosby.
9) “Raging in the Plague Age,” Les Savy Fav. Then there’s a song like this that shows rock and roll is not only not dead, it’s wielding a Bec de corbin of awesomeness. Yes, I know my pole arms. Who wants to touch me?
10) “Reunion,” M83. One of the most John Hughes-ish of their many John Hughes-ish tunes. We let Libby watch some of Ferris Bueller the other day, partly because it’s harmless, partly because it’s set in Chicago and she needs to learn where she should ditch school, and partly because it didn’t involve any cartoon characters or animated animals. Anyway, it is an adventure to watch a movie like that with a four-year old, because they are a lot of questions, and Libby can’t ask a question without acting like she’s shouting it from the back of a townhall meeting. WHY DID THE GIRL KICK THE MAN WITH THE MUSTACHE IN THE FACE? WHY DID THAT BOY KICK THE CAR THROUGH THE WINDOW? WHY IS FERRIS BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL?
11) “Go Your Own Way,” Fleetwood Mac. Does Lindsey Buckingham have this set as his ringtone for Stevie Nicks? That would be both awesome and such an asshole move. Incidentally, I think they should have a The Voice-style show where the judges are all members of a band that had a bad break-up. Imagine Lindsey and Stevie on either side of Mick Fleetwood. Or Axl and Slash separated by Duff. I would definitely watch that.
Have a good weekend, and stay warm! Unless you already live someplace warm, in which case, suck it, you lucky bastard.
