Friday, February 4, 2011
2 kindsa love or the duality of your love
I'm not terribly fond of Valentines Day, and i never have been. Much like Christmas, Valentines Day is an additional opportunity for the whores of commerce to stand behind the woman, man, troll, lumberjack or Saint Bernard you love with arms folded and demand you prove your love through the procurement of chocolates, flowers, cards, maybe edible underwear perhaps. I think the most disingenuous of these, for me, is the greeting card. What better way to convey how you feel for the person who gets to see you in various states of undress throughout the month than to rely on prose ostensibly produced in Brill building-like settings or a sweat shop. You're letting sincerity hop in the backseat and bland, faceless sentiments drive your love life vehicle aimlessly down the highway of life. Bullshit I say, good people!
What's wrong with honesty? Acknowledging the core essentials seems so easy, yet so easy to overlook. It's like this, you say to someone I love you because you make me never want to get old. You make me feel at ease and the world make sense. I look forward to graying and balding in your presence while you begin to droop lower and lower in some parts, while remaining the person I fell in love with when we were contenders for the throne. Because if this comes to be my Love, then we beat the odds and Love won. And people,women, brothers and sisters of the congregation, we gotta let love win. If only on this day. Loves day. Can I get an amen?
And with that, I offer you some artists to enjoy while you and yours trip the lights fantastic. Hopefully you're both conscious, but if money was exchanged prior to any acts necessitating the removal of pants, then you should probably get a receipt for tax season is looming.
Wilco/Billy Bragg-Mermaid Avenue Volume 1 and 2- If you conceive with these records playing, your child will be born with a beard and smelling of chili. But within these songs are the ghosts of promise, times of bleakness, and last ditch resort love.
AC/DC-I've read that white people love nothing more than to create more white people while listening to Angus Young and company. If this is the case, that means a man dressed like a school boy ushered your brood out of your loins and onto an unsuspecting world.
Peter Gabriel-I can say that Peter inadvertently empowered a lot of shunned boys to hoist boom boxes outside their former girlfriends bedroom window. This probably resulted in more restraining orders than salvaged relationships. I'd say back to back playing of "So and Us" will result in twins. So be careful.
Air Supply-My brother in law once said to me "Dude, Air Supply. Works every time." I guess I'll never know.
Morphine- You couldn't go wrong with any of their records. They're as sexy as Creed is awful. They work in colors normally eschewed in music and they aim for the low end. Your low end. Which you'll be shaking, both sides. People used to thank Sandman for making Cure For Pain, an album that assisted in many notches on headboards. Here's to Mark for that alone.
Tom Waits- If the woman you're making time with has a beard, then she'll love Tom.
Motorhead- If you're on top of or underneath a Hells Angels member, then they'll love this. Motorhead is to bikers as Morrissey is to effeminate Latino guys.
The Talking Heads- If only on the basis of their rhythm sections ability to produce perfect sounds and time signatures to thrust the pelvic region to, they put out a 2cd best of called Sand In The Vaseline. End on Naive Melody while basking in the warm post coital afterglow, or before someone knocks on the bathroom door to ask what's taking so long.
Here's hoping this Valentine's Day finds you in the arms of someone who loves you, or at least loves you for the hour you paid for.
Your amorous friend,