Unseen Shows
Last night was the best debut show of an all-female punk band that I’ve never attended. No that wasn’t a typo. Siiiiigh. It was supposed to happen, but it looks like it wasn’t in the cards. Oh well. I guess I’ll have to catch the Laurie L’s (name change pending, perhaps?) at their next show, hopefully one that involves significantly less last minute schedule changing and general dramarama. Oh yeah, and maybe a little less not-actually-happening-after-all, too.
But still. It was the best show I didn’t see all year.
So a bunch of us ended up back at my place, strangely enough, with too much coke (of the cola variety, of course) and not enough Southern Comfort. my bottle’s almost empty, so it looks like it’s about time to change my newest sidebar section again. (Oh yes, there’s a new sidebar section devoted to my drinking habits. As if this site wasn’t insular and narcissistic enough as it is. Yeah, well fuck you, get your own blog).
So, I could be in San Francisco seeing my current musical obsession as I sit here typing, but I didn’t know about Joanna Newsom, her music, or her two sold out sets at Noise Pop until too late. But that’s not going to stop me from listening to her fucking brilliant, beautiful album, The Milk-Eyed Mender, and gazing longingly at the photo of her torn from the cover of the Bay Guardian currently hanging on my wall. I know, I know. Sad. But that should come as no surprise.
But seriously, when I say obsession, I’m not kidding. I listen to her every night when going to sleep now. And most mornings on my way to work. And most lunch breaks. And on random walks around Cotati at odd hours. And while blogging. Considering that I almost canceled the download of her album as soon I heard her voice for the first time, this is pretty amazing. At this point, there is exactly one song on her album that I don’t absolutely adore. I can’t remember an album that has captured my attention like this since maybe OK Computer, or one that has so perfectly filled an emotional niche in my life since Low’s Things We Lost in the Fire. Fucking amazing. Fuck. And once more for good measure. Fuck.
My EP has been mastered now, and it sounds phenomenal, if I do say so myself. Mad props to John at panicStudios for working his magic on my little tracks. Now It’s all down to me deciding on my website/packaging design, and it’ll be available and out of my life. In a way, the songs already feel like they’re behind me now, part of the past, and I can start working on something new. I even have a rough conceptual idea and a handful of partial/completed tracks for my next project, which may be another EP, or maybe a full length. I even have a working title that I’m enamored with at the moment, but we’ll see if it sticks. I’m not going to reveal the title right now, because I don’t want people to worry about me. Hehe…
Jesus, I always write more than I intend to here. I should try writing less, but more often. Or not. It’s not like there’s an audience out there slavering for my tender witticisms to fall from their bloggy branches like overripe pears. And that sentence alone should tell you why.
More later. We should shine a light on.
