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surgery is major with my sneakers stomping on your...
pablo picasso never got called an asshole
everything in its right place
all the beating drums, the celebration guns
you can't kill us all
silence kills the revolution
to be someone must be a wonderful thing
you're old and your hands are grey
his life was warfare
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
there are lives in the balance:
Top Chef blogging is going to be preempted by Jens Lekman blogging, as I skipped episode 4 to see... yeah. Jens Lekman is a rare talent: a first-rate songwriter with a beautiful voice; an ensemble leader who enjoys arranging his music; an ironist with the ability to calibrate precisely the right amount of melodrama. His indie-pop isn't fey or twee. He puts on a stunningly good (and choreographed!) performance. How is any of this possible?
My mother loves Jackson Browne. She drove four hours on Saturday, each way, to see him perform in Mystic, Connecticut. I have never, my whole life long, understood my mother's insane devotion to him. Nor, for that matter, do I get his mellow-yellow contemporaries like Carole King or James Taylor. But tonight at the Jens Lekman show I wondered if he's the contemporary Jackson Browne. Perhaps with a broader musical palette and reference base, but with the same discontent beneath the sweetness.
Also, you learn something new every day. Today I learned that women love songs about haircuts, or at least Jens Lekman songs about haircuts.
Update: Yes, this post has been corrected for an embarrassing misspelling. This might be what it feels like when girls spot their white pants.