{ 10 } .. . juggernaut

i’m so manically messy, i must be messianic

Moments of truth, a random sampling:
The opening note that Miles Davis blows on the very first track of Porgy and Bess. It is a detonation, a squall from his horn so thunderous that it leaves me excited and scared at the same time. It is like being slapped in the arse to breathe in the world for the first time. It’s what I imagined the Trump of Doom will sound like.

The little guitar riff in the middle of Prince’s Blue Light (from Sex Symbol). Amidst this great little throwaway, anchored by a light touch of reggae soul, a dozen or so notes comes from the lead guitar, all spidery and sparkling with nervous energy, underscoring the sexual tension (well, is there any other kind with Prince?) of the song.

The quality of Gillian Welch’s voice as she sings, ‘went out walking with a girl pure as milk’ on Good Til Now (from Hell Among the Yearlings). It’s a languid performance, twangy and cornpoke, conjuring up hot, windless prairie days in a town with nothing to do. And when Welch gets to the words, ‘sweating through her yellow silk’, the eroticism just melts away the syllables.


spiral scratch
personality crisis .. . { new york dolls }
majorca .. . { rheostatics, the nightline sessions }
the last mile of the way .. . { the soul stirrers, the last mile of the way }

{ 00 } .. . simpleton

Oh, what wonders do the world provide for idle hands led by feeble mind.

Beginnings are buggers. So I’m gonna cheat. But before I plunk you into the middle of the raging torrents of my fevered diatribe (well, actually, it’d be more like the slack-jawed droolings of my flaccid gibes), here’s a little illustration of what you are in for.

I was going to call this site, Secretariat, you know, all sleek and powerful, a real thoroughbred of measured thoughts. But then, I would be constantly blogging a dead horse.

Really, there will be nothing of note, no truths unveiled, no secrets revealed, just the mad mutterings of a nutter with too much time and technology at his disposal.

And I promise that will be the last time I refer to myself in the third person.

You have been warned.



spiral scratch
sexy mf .. . { prince, sex symbol }
ape self prevails in me still .. . { quasi, featuring ‘birds’ }
i wanna be sedated .. . { the ramones, road to ruin }