They lay there apart in another world at the dawn of creation

Many, many years ago, there was a Comet that knew the Earth. The Comet flew past every 17 years or so — that's a short-enough interval as comets go, but it seemed like a plenty long time to the Earth, always so green and stolid, but infused with a sense of yearning and wonder each time the Comet whooshed past, draping Earth's atmosphere in shimmering cosmic dust collected from the far depths of space.

"Comet," the Earth said each time the Comet started to head away, "will I see you again?"

"You will, Earth," the Comet seemed to say. "You will."

"Satisfied" is the song Tom used to play for us at 6 a.m. every Friday morning. It was a song that told me, "you'd better hurry the hell up, son." I'm not sure what it's telling me now. I can't see it clearly through all of the cosmic dust.

***
--> Satisfied, Squeeze
--> I Am My Own Grandpa, Asylum Street Spankers

To lose all my senses was just so typically me

Call it pandering, but hey -- you visit my blog, you comment on my blog, you can be pretty sure you will see something you like the very next time you visit. If I get around to it, I mean.

Richard Thompson. One. Thousand. Years. Of. Popular. Music. How can I describe it any better than Mark Deming of allmusic.dot.com?

As the year 2000 loomed on the horizon, Playboy Magazine took it upon itself to ask a number of leading musicians to name the greatest songs of the soon-to-be-completed millennium. One of the musos queried was Richard Thompson, and while many of his comrades couldn't be bothered to go further back than 1940 in their overview of musical history, the scholarly Thompson took the notion seriously enough to extend his own list of notable songs as far back as 1068 A.D.

While Playboy never ended up printing Thompson's list, the notion made enough of an impression on him that he put together a special show in which he guided his audience through his own version of the greatest hits of the past ten centuries. 1000 Years of Popular Music is culled from recordings of Thompson's concert series of the same name, and beyond the novelty value of the set list (from the oldest round in the English language to Britney Spears in a mere 76 minutes!), it also offers a rare look at Thompson the interpretive musician, as well as lends a fascinating perspective on his musical influences.

As one might expect, the early innings are dominated by the British folk tradition, with "King Henry V's Conquest of France" and "Blackleg Miner" suggesting where Thompson's melodic sense first took root, and other tunes demonstrating how operetta and the British music halls absorbed and refined similar themes. Thompson also indulges his passion for classic jazz of the 1930s and '40s on some Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong chestnuts, and wraps up by following rock & roll through Jerry Lee Lewis, the Who, and the Beatles to Prince and Britney Spears ("Oops! I Did It Again," of which Thompson writes, "Taken out of context, this is a pretty nice song").

Considering that precious few of these songs were meant to be performed by a solo acoustic guitar, Thompson's arrangements are inventive and effective; whether he's going for laughs or drama, he gets the most from his material. (He's also fortunate to be joined in the proceedings by vocalist Judith Owen and percussionist Michael Jerome).

1000 Years of Popular Music is entertaining, informative, and a lot more enlightening than the average lecture on musical history. Perhaps Thompson should consider writing a text on the subject should his remarkable fingers ever fail him.

***
--> I Live In Trafalgar Square, Richard Thompson
--> Oops...I Did It Again, Richard Thompson

Turn your ears into a medicinal jelly

I'm somewhere beyond the right margin of the photo. Stephen Malkmus played a pretty note-perfect rendering of his new album at First Avenue on Wednesday, but what got the most spirited treatment, to my ears, was "Jo-Jo's Jacket," off the 2001 album. It would be great to find a bootleg of the show to be able to compare the live and studio versions. The concert version was definitely more heavy and dynamic.

Second track is actually just some drunken jackass who left a message on my phone complaining about a story reporting the National Weather Service declaring a Winter Storm Watch. Funny thing is, all I contributed was a paragraph. But I want to be fully responsible for this delectable tongue-lashing. Dear sir: Will you be my surrogate grandpa?

***
--> Jo Jo's Jacket, Stephen Malkmus
-->"I don't know where your head is, but wherever it is, I wish you'd get it out of there," Anonymous

You might think you've found my replacement

Back in the fabled "Day," I had some sort of indefinable thing for Willie Wisely. I trucked great distances for concerts (99-cent gas, kids!), got schnookered in the smoky noise (there were cigarettes there, kids!), and after the show came and accosted the man with belligerent praise as he tried to peddle a couple of CDs from the foot of the stage.

I bought one once. He signed it. It says:

Jeff,

No cheese!

Willie

The "W" in Willie is made to look like a little Pac-Man ghost.

So I've always had this uncomfortable sort of thing with Willie.

Driving today, I heard a voice on the radio that sounded sort of familiar. I came home, checked it out, and wouldn'tchaknow...

Here is that track. Here, also, is a video that, well, ran me through the gamut of interested, more interested, then depressed, before finally sending me off with a sort of "Fight Club"-ish "Huh."

Also some early Willie. You can see how the artist has advanced. Kids.

***
--> Erase Me, Wisely
--> M'Druthers, Willie Wisely Trio

Richard Avedon would surely approve

This here ought to be the feel-good single of the summer. It's practically impossible not to start toe-tapping and feeling very communal to it. (Very similar to last year's FGSOTS. Remember that one?)

All of the cool kids will be blasting it from the speakers on the roofs of their jeeps at the beach. Mark my words.

***
--> Gardenia, Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks

My feet and ears could only take so much

Here's a song that kept coming to my mind last week. I dunno, maybe you heard it once or twice on a TV news network (I can only suppose they used it — I mean, how fitting it would be) and it was on your mind, too.

And, uh, maybe a song for Elliott Spitzer, now that his political career is over. The man with the five-figure female appetite.

***
--> Texas to Ohio, Damien Jurado
--> You Want the Candy, The Raveonettes