In Praise of Many Things

This is terrible. I look like I'm wearing Johnny Cash's jogging clothes and one of Elvis's more inadvisable jackets. Aah!
The jacket is a bright pink, zipup, non-hoodie sweatshirt that I never wear in public because it is from Old Navy, store of the Contrafashionistas. I've paired it with one of Bro's old black t-shirts and black running pants that would fit one of Hannibal's elephants. Not a good look for me.
BUT I digress.
Hats. In Praise of Hats.
I love hats, especially flatcaps. Having been unable to find a flatcap large enough to fit me or feminine enough to please my ma, I finally stumbled on a bottlegreen satin number in a thrift shop. Too excellent.
In Praise of Teamakers.
If the world was any more unfair, bedside tea makers would only exist in English nursing homes. Luckily they don't. Three cheers.
In Praise of Libraries.
I love libraries but they intimidate me. They're too quiet. I have a pair of jeans that I can't wear in libraries because the lower legs brush together noisily. I have a pair of shoes that sound like machine gun fire even on carpet. If I wear one of these articles of clothing into the library, I get weird looks. And then came the day I was stupid enough to wear both...
In Praise of Bro's CDs
Cos everybody knows (she's a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (she's a femme fatale)
She's just a little tease (she's a femme fatale)
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks...
(nuff said)
In Praise of Large Clash Photo Books
I just got Before and After by Pennie Smith in the mail and it is HILARIOUS beyond all reason. Joe, Paul, and Mick all wrote comments which range from the fairly normal (We only took this one for the haircut) to the utterly bizarre ("Not that one, Tops." "Not that one either, Tops." "Tops: This is the one. Joe: er..." "One of the things Sid actually did invent (like the pogo): bog-paper ties." "Oy...oy...") and so forth. Most of the bizarre ones come from Joe. All the not-that-one-Tops-ing refers to Topper's inadvisable choice in hats. Oy oy refers to Paul's girlfriend.
And so on.
Okay, my Cash/Elvis/trainwreck look and I are off to pester Brainsponge and co.
BYE

A Bigger Bang

Annoying Yet Lovable Git went to the Stones concert and came back with a concert T-shirt and a fixation with Mick's jokes. I AM SO BLOODY JEALOUS! Luckily he decided not to be too much of an asshole about it and we somewhat alarmed Symbolism Demon by singing "You Can't Alway Get What You Want" at the top of our lungs, very off key. I am still very very jealous though. Even Peaches was somewhat depressed. And I think Beaky is scarred for life because I joked about selling myself for Stones tickets. The worst thing is that they probably won't tour the US again before Keef dies, and if they do the tickets will be ASTRONOMICALLY expensive. This doesn't work AT ALL for the wages of a skint art student. What a pity.
Speaking of being skint, I was explaining my Cash Cycle to The Twins after thanksgiving. "So I'm skint, and then I get cash, and then I buy a New York Dolls album, and then I'm skint..." Philosophy Bloke overheard and quoted something like "the kids of today should protect themselves from the seventies..."
Speaking of further Britslang, my favorite term now is "Mod suss". C'est fantastique!
Oh, and I've added food coloring, two drops red, eight drops yellow, to the Jasper's Spiced Lemonade/Hair Dye recipe. (See "Recipes") I'll try it out after my audition.
I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she would meet her connection
At her feet was a footloose man
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometime
You might find
You get what you need!

Recipes

Hieronymous Anonymous posted some recipes complete with footnotes about which Brit supermarket chain had the best sundried tomatoes (or something) so I am retaliating. Three are family recipes, and the rest are from the book.

Truly Excellent Punch (J's dad's recipe)
Ginger ale
Cranberry juice
several limes
Mix ginger ale and cranberry juice to taste (less ginger ale= sour-er beverage), add lime juice to taste, and garnish with lime slices.

Jasper Breakfast
Take one bowl of granola and add half a small container (or a few scoops from a large one) of yogurt. Contrary to popular belief, eating granola does not turn you in to a hippie.

Chocolate balls a la Chambord (from Wild Raspberries)
Decorate a ten inch round silver platter with maraschino cherries, fresh mint, and almond filberts, Then call up the Royal Pastry Shop and have them deliver a pound of half inch chocolate balls, serve only with no-cal ginger ale to very thin people

Torte a la Dobosch (same source as above)
Run down to Dick Camp's and buy an old wire whisk, beat 6 eggs and 1/2 cup sugar until thick then add 1/2 cup flower sifted 7 tablespoons strong black coffee, add 5 egg whites stiffly beaten and bake in 12 springform molds on the top layer spread an orange glaze and slices of fresh pineapple Decorate with a red sweetheart rose made from spun sugar and Dr Martins dye, let the cake sit for at least 14 hrs before serving and hang the whisk on the kitchen wall above the rotisserie

J's Cinnamon Lemonade/Hair Dye
In a microwave safe mug, mix water (not too much), cinnamon (a fair amount), chili powder (a bit), powdered cloves (a bit), lemon juice (a few squeezes) and honey to taste. Microwave it until the spices are all mixed in. You can either drink it and OD on cinnamon or rub it into wet, clean hair a bit at a time and rinse out for an interesting "rosy glow" effect and a strong odor of spices.

Piglet (Wild Raspberries)
Contact Trader Vic's and order a 40 pound suckling pig to serve 15. Have Hamley take the Carey Cadillac to the side entrance and recieve the pig at exactly 6:45. Rush home immediately and Place on the open spit for 50 minutes. Remove and garnish with fresh crabapples.

(and, a personal favorite...) Gefiilte of Fighting Fish
Contact Max's fish hatchery in the Bronx and have Max send C.O.D. two plump fighting fish. Immerse them in sea water and allow them to battle until they completely bone each other Take the fillets, stir in white wine and serve completely chilled.

Please note: Wild Raspberries was co-written by Andy Warhol and is therefore more than a little ridiculous. None of the recipes from it are meant to be taken in earnest, especially since they probably only work for affluent New Yorkers circa 1962. Just a warning.
Now the war's over
Mussolini's dead
He wants to go to heaven
With a crown upon his head
The lord says NO
He's got to stay below
All dressed up
And nowhere to go!

Break

After the hustle and bustle of Thanksgiving I am now really, really ready to return to my usual Break routine. I got a good start on it today, thus:
1) Woke up and lay staring at the ceiling pondering deep, existential questions such as "which of the leftovers will I eat first?", "Did somebody throw away the Thursday Arts section?" and "I wonder how long I can stare at my ceiling without getting bored out of my skull?"
2) After having been bored out of my skull, I read for a bit (Killing Yourself To Live, a funny book about rock star death sites) and got some leftover cake for breakfast.
3) Read a bit more until I finished the book and continued staring at my ceiling. I have a new poster that enchants me.
4) Showered, and went for a bikeride on my beloved cruiser, Edie Marie.
5) Came back and worked on my Blog.
6) Later in the day, I will eat more leftovers, spend more time staring at the ceiling, and eventually fall asleep knowing that "Monday's coming like a jail on wheels..."
Thank you for reading this very boring post. If you came to this site for entertainment, please read "Aboveground". It, at least, shows depth of thought.

Jasper's Escapades in the World of Culinary Hair Dye

Recently I have been rather bored with my hair, so I've developed a few schemes to change it. The first involved snipping pieces off bit by bit with the nail clippers, which provided an interesting edge but didn't change the overall shape of the 'do. I haven't got the patience to give myself a total haircut.
The second involved a few attempts at natural hair dye recipes I'd read about in various herb books. Lemon juice didn't really work, and neither did a mix of lemon juice and chamomile tea. I ended up trying a mix of water, cinnamon, chili powder, cloves, lemon juice, and honey, which tasted great, smells lovely, and gave me interesting chili powder dandruff. For those of you who haven't seen me in a few days and are freaking out about this, I can assure you that my hair is virtually unchanged other than a distinct odor of cinnamon and a light "rosy glow" around the front bit. I think I'll try leaving it in a bit longer next time...
Other Random Notes:
~Finally finished "Black Angel's Death Song"/"Starman" comics for the Bro, both of which ended up being considerably trippier than I had originally intended. I haven't seen him all day and therefore do not know what he thinks.
~Went Thanksgiving shopping in a near-deserted Safeway with Herself. The store was very creepy, what with the Christmas muzak already blasting from the speakers and the beverage aisle where Coke (the beverage) and Pepsi co-exist peacefully. All the celebrity mags drearily adorning the cash registers and the slick Christmas decor made the whole scene seem rather like some Beatnik-Orwellian vision of a scary commercialized future. "I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily..."
~Luckily I was able to escape into the bustling depths of our local bookstore to buy my Clash mag (which is DIVINE) and run into more people-I-know than I thought would be about- Snowy's brother, Milano Cheddar (v. awkward), and three out of four of The Royal Navy (I.e., Herself's garden-mad friend and her two sons). It was all quite peculiar.
Cheers,
Jasper "I can't tell the difference between Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas" Ritchie (as opposed to Bert "I can't tell the difference between Bob Dylan and Bob Marley" the Hedgehog, Snowy "my parents listen to Bob Dylan and I think it's weird" the Stockfish and Joe "Bob Dylan is the Man" Strummer.)

Lookin' for a Kiss

When I say I am in love, you'd best believe I am in love L-U-V!
-David JoHansen
Well, I've finally purchased an album by the NY Dolls and my oh my is it fantastic.
My L-U-V affair with the Dolls began when watching Westway to the World, the world's greatest rock doc. In it, Mick "would everybody please stop calling me a poodle?" Jones acknowledges them as one of his biggest influences and the reason he decided to have long hair. Which looked rather ghastly but that's beside the point. I later read about them in the large bright green PUNK book and in several subsequent rock bios. My favorite Sid quote from The Filth and the Fury goes "I like the New York Dolls because they had great clothes and great makeup and they played godawful rock'n'roll..."
So I bought the album and it was good.
Other slightly random notes on related or unrelated topics:
~I finally saw the new Harry Potter. It is probably the best so far because Daniel Radcliffe has finally grasped the basics of acting. Other than that it was pretty good and not nearly as twee as the others. There was a rather amusing scene in which a wizard goth-rock band plays "Do the Hippogriff" at the Yule Ball. Quite novel.
~We are finally all under the same roof again since the Bro arrived for Thanksgiving break. This time a few years ago we were off to foggy Scotland with the first ever Harry Potter book in tow. Ah, those were the days...
~Speaking of foggy Scotland, we watched a rather odd film in Latin. As in, it was entirely in Latin. A news program. Very bizarre indeed. For the weather report, this toga'd dude stood up and blamed everything on the gods, including the fact that in Britannia, it rains, "semper."
~Speaking of movies, I am now going to pull a Snowy and make a list:
Pride and Predjudice, because it's a great story and I adore Keira Knightley
Memoirs of a Geisha, because the period detail looks interesting
New York Doll, about Arthur Kane, for the obvious reasons
Narnia for the special effects if I can find a Christian symbolism filter
Walk the Line because it looks good
and Aeon Flux because it looks OK for an action flick and Snowy will probably take me anyway.
~And finally, I have earned the $$$ to go buy the special edition of Mojo featuring Joe "Hey Jiving, there's a mouse in the bucket" Strummer, Mick "I really object to all these poodle references" Jones, Paul Simonon the handsomest man to ever set a journalist on fire, and Topper "I lost the plot" Headon. YIPPEEEEEE!

Aboveground

Tony went to fight in Belfast
Rudie stayed at home to starve
I could make it all worthwhile as a rock'n'roll star
Bevan wants to change the nation
Sammy wants to churn the world, well he can tell you that he tried
I can make a transformation as a rock'n'roll star
- "Star," David Bowie

I have been living on music and snow..."You Could Have It So Much Better" pumps through my head as I tramp across the slush-covered pavement, a mantra of dissatisfaction to match the moody grey skies. The air isn't quite cold enough to merit an overstuffed coat so I am able to wander unhampered, a fog spirit clad in blazer and vest.
Out the window I can see the slush melting on the fairy lights draped so elegantly over the garden. The sparkle of the snow and the crystalline drops that hang off the juniper bows contrats oddly with the grimy pavement; the bottle caps and broken glass crushed in the gutter. The resulting sheen is reminiscent of a Hollywood film from the age of glamour: Ingrid Bergman clad in a slightly destroyed gown, Marlene Dietrich's sequins in blurry black and white. The city is a wild exotic filmstar and I am an autograph-hunting fan.
I'm just a voice in your earpiece
Telling you NO! It's not all right!
You know you could have it so much better
You could have it so much better
If you tried!
I've been trying, though. I have ripped and clawed myself into a persona but I am not quite done. I am not yet ready to emerge from my chrysalis as... what? I do not know yet. It'll be interesting to see.
Today the clouds hang low over the mountains. The evergreens are outlined in snow crystals like the elfin forest of my childhood. If the town is a filmstar then the mountains are the dancing princesses, untouchable in their sparkling gowns.
But to paraphrase some feminist, an ivory pedestal is, like all small places, a prison. The world of glamour goes hand in hand with the world of elegant decay, the stylized demise of Sid and Nancy or the glamourous end of Marilyn Monroe. I could choose that life and my beautiful underground daydream, but I don't think I will. The subcurrents of the city are calling me with the scent of incense and the beat of some strange music. I will continue to live on music and snow, turning away from all the dead idols, Marilyn, Nancy, Jayne, that beautiful tragic Nico.
You're just a voice in my earpiece
Telling me NO! It's not all right
I know I could have it so much better
I could have it so much better
If I try!
The light is fading out the window, letting the fairly lights shine through with added brightness. They have the golden glow of the sequins in the costume closet or a candleflame on a dark night. The sky has turned a pearly grey to match the freezing slush on the pavement. Somewhere out there someone is playing my song on their stereo- "The Prisoner"-although they may not be thinking of me. Maybe I'll dream about rock'n'roll...if I stay aboveground. I will.

So inviting-so enticing to play the part
I can make a transformation as a rock'n'roll star!
I could do with the money (You know that I could)
I'm so wiped out with things as they are (You know that I could)
I send my photograph to my honey
And come home like a regular superstar!

First Snow and a Lot of Other Random Junk

First snow of the season...just a light feather dusting accompanied by some VICIOUS cold weather, but nice nonetheless.

There was an interview with Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand in New Scientist...oddly fitting since I've been wandering around with the new album stuck in my head for a few days...

Some weird things found in Rolling Stone:
Marilyn Manson is coming up with a Schiaperelli-Dali influenced perfume which I would actually buy if funds allowed
In an article on Kate Moss, the writer dropped more Clash lyric references in one sentence than I thought was possible. It ran something like "Mick Jones was the guy who criticized doped-up rock stars in his song Jail Guitar Doors and now he's rockin' his chemical casbah with Kate Moss, the ultimate treat-me-nice-party-girl?" I have yet to write them a nagging email about it, especially since Mick did have a coke habit, circa Give 'Em Enough Rope.
And, weirdest of all, SOME IDIOTS ARE CASTING ELIJAH WOOD AS IGGY POP OF ALL PEOPLE!!!!!!! This defies basic rules of nature! Not to mention common sense! Oh, agony!

Another weird thing- Just found out that Mini-Wheat and I were living in North London at around the same time...pretty freaky, huh?
And my "Underworld Daydream" has been deemed publishable material. By the RockNRoll poet herself, Lindsay Dear. Praise from Caesar is praise indeed, eh?
Off to compose more scintillating prose!
Cheers (and the remains of more coffee-induced energy than I really ought to have)
Jasper

Clarifications and notes:

First off, a gooey, cream-filled Happy Birthday to Snowy-my-dear although it is several months too late.
Secondly, I have a few notes to make concerning the post "Underworld Daydream." Apparently, some people read it and began to worry about my general mental health. Just to clear things up a bit, I am not suicidal or depressed or otherwise emotionally unwell. My heart bleeds for those who are but I am not about to dash out and join them. I have too much to do.
Like make up Strike, for instance. I wasn't able to help the rest of the crew strike the set so I need to go in and do that, I'm just hoping I didn't miss the opportunity to do so. I would bite my nails with stress and worry but the idea of nail-biting has never particularly appealed to me. Plus mine are a bit too short to bite anyway.
Anyway, to make up for the unfortunate "Underworld Daydream" post, I'll write a list of happy things...or at least, things that have recently boosted my mood.
1) Blazer shopping: I love blazers passionately. I went on a shopping spree this weekend to a pair of local (or semi-local) thrift stores: the All That Glitters benefit for HospiceCare and Rockin' Robin's in Niwot. At All That Glitters I was able to find a great Debbie Harry-ish blue dress although the black velvet I tried on didn't fit. What a shame. I made up for it by getting a black velvet blazer at Rockin' Robin's, the most awesome r'n'r store in the state. They have a jukebox, for cryin' out loud! Also got a marroon job to go with my new bottlegreen flatcap. Three cheers!
2) Watch movies: recently watched the film "Saving Grace" with Brenda Blethyn of Jane Austen fame. Laughed my behind off all the way through, and I definitely reccomend it and the author commentary.
3) Listen to "Sweet Jane" until my brain drips slowly out my ears: because I love the Velvets, that's why.
4) Read hefty Clash-related books until THEY drip slowly out my ears: for more information on Jasper's AMAZING Clash habit, please see the posts "Bass Culture" and "Letter from the pits of snooze-free Hell." I'm currently counting off the days until "unspecified winter holiday" so I can get my rookers on "Sandinista!" Wheee....splat
5) ...or go get a large glass of water, which is what I shall do right now. BYE!

How to Learn Rock'n'Roll out of Books

Step one: go to your local library and head to the 781 section. This is where they keep the good stuff.
Step two: select a biography of the band of you choice. Some good ones to check out: Passion is a Fashion, (Clash), England's Dreaming, (Sex Pistols), What's Welsh for Zen, (John Cale.) Read this book cover to cover. If you aren't sure which band you like best, choose an anthology like Cinderella's Big Score or PUNK.
Step three: read all the authors cited as influences by the band. Examples include J.G. Ballard, Graham Greene, and George Orwell. If a particular book is mentioned, read that as well.
Step four: find more biographies or photo books and read THEM cover to cover. Repeat step three. The Clash by Bob Gruen, and Picture This by Mick Rock are excellent photobooks.
Step five: rent or buy a guitar
Step six: go back to the 781s and find either The Complete and Utter Ignoramus's Guide to Making Not Too Horrible Noise On Six Strings (or a similar title) or a chord dictionary.
Step seven: learn three chords: Amaj, Dmaj, and Emaj. You can now play "Louie, Louie" if you get them in the right order, or the verse bit (and most of the chorus) to "Blitzkreig Bop."
Step eight: start writing your own awful lyrics and keep them in a notebook because they're too embarassing to see the light of day
Step nine: go to a used clothes store and buy either an awesome Ray Davies velvet jacket or an awesome Debbie Harry blue dress.
Step ten: now that you have learned RockNRoll out of books, torture your friends by reciting band-related dates or band members' middle names. (Mick Jones's is Geoffrey.) This is also a good conversation starter.
Cheers,
Jasper

Underworld Daydream

The myriad choices of his fate
Set themselves out upon a plate
For him to choose
What had he to lose?
-"Black Angel's Death Song" more confusing musings from Lou Reed

As I paused to lick the stray drop of caramel sauce that managed to bespatter my CD player I realized that I had become very depressed. The state of the world was getting me down, keeping me in a Coca-Cola bottle to be viewed and ultimately forgotten as a piece of caffeinated, sparkling pop art. And the only soda machine that sells Coca-Cola is in the opposite direction from where I need to go. It doesn't even come in bottles.
I spent much of a day sprawled in front of the heater, flipping through the Arts section or reading more books about music and depression until my eyes lost focus on the page. I've had a birthday but I can't get my head around the new age. My pile of presents broods in a corner, books unopened, shirt unworn. I long to go out and kick something.
Rich kids these days will do anything for a thrill- buy a John Lennon album, shoplift, get baked. They want to rebel but there is nothing to rebel against. Angst and despair comes pouring out of the psychology books, off the blogs, off the pages of the newspaper. They are bored with the American dream because they prefer the great American road trip or the great American drugdream. Genuine hippies cry for them. So do I, but I still want to go kick something.
I simply can't be bothered. I am too bloody lazy to stand up, walk to the door, tie my shoes, and kick over a garbage can. I try to channel my innate violence into something creative by bruising my fingers in the guitar or the sketch pencil while other people, middle class like me or the rich and the bored, shoot smack into the veins that run through their ankles.
There are people who don jackboots and kill each other after football games. There are people who join the army and die in some faraway lonely desert. There are some shot for requesting peace, others trampled to death for going to a concert. A girl was stabbed in a hotel room and a lonely boy OD'd in a New York appartment. Rich kids die of boredom and go out to play Russian roulette with the needle: which one gets HIV? Drunks crash out on streetcorners to be kicked to death by the clockwork orange. Some of them aren't even out of high school. Teenaged boys kill people on mountain roads and we still want more: more alcohol, cheaper pot, more thrills.
Will I die?
Eventually, I suppose. I don't want to see it coming, neither from the firing squad, the suffocation, nor the needle. I've planned for life so far and I try to live by the law (at least for stupid things, like poetry books, the library is a lot cheaper than shoplifting). Secretly the young know they can live forever unless they live out the Underworld Daydream and maybe even then.
My inner self longs for hair dye and piercings and jackboots, old Undertones albums and Joe Strummer's leather jacket.

You lie, steal, cheat and deceit
In such a small small game don't you know it is wrong?
To cheat a trying man don't you know it is wrong?
To cheat a trying man don't you know it is wrong?
You better stop
It is the Wrong 'Em Boyo!
-"Wrong 'Em Boyo" original Reggae by The Rulers, ska cover by The Clash

Every day should be a holiday...

(One of those songs I know I shouldn't love but I do.)
Anyway, I am now able to tell about two of my favorite holidays: Halloween and my birthday.
Halloween:
I was caught in another one of those situations when I know what my costume looks like but not what it is. After much rummaging around in my brain chambers, I finally decided to be Beauty (without my mask) and the Beast (with the mask). Other rejected options included Lady Stardust (Bowie) and Sweet Jane (Lou Reed).
Peaches, Sparkly and I holed up in Peaches's house, handing out candy to all the adorable little kids in animal suits who showed up. We accidentally offered candy to the pizza guy as well. He was not amused.
Eventually we got bored and decided to go out ourselves. For once, it wasn't snowing, so I got by without wearing several million layers. It was late so we were among the only ones still out. I could add a very poetic piece about the cotton-wool clouds and the witchy moon but I won't. Suffice to say it was wickedly fun.
My Birthday:
Birthdays strike me as a very odd reason for a celebration. When you're young, they mean "congratulations, you've lived x years without getting hit by a truck!" When you're older, it means "wow, welcome to the wonderful world of wrinkles." (Emphasize the w on wrinkles or else the alliteration doesn't work.) Anyway, it was very fun.
On the day itself we had a small family celebration in which I was showered with books books books: album covers considered as art, (or porno, if we're talking Roxy Music), a book on the great world music makers, (Bob Marley, Brian Eno, Lata Mangeshkar etc), Meet the Beatles, a book on creative political activism, and Wild Raspberries, the Warhol recipe book.
Later on, I got a custom bearhug from Pilot, and Xplode-a-Ferret tried to sing the Beatle's birthday song. It was pretty damn funny.
Yesterday, Guy Fawkes day, I had my actual friend party, during which I decided that they all know me too well: CD gift certificate from Snowy, "I'm With the Band" shirt from Brainsponge, Clash poster, badge, and pins from Joe (who is actually a girl, I call her Joe because I CAN), more books from Twin1 and Twin 2, Uncle John's Unstoppable Bathroom Reader from Jazz, that sort of thing. Oh, and chocolates. Hurray. We had a good deal of fun trying to be all black and white, with me looking unnervingly like Grace Kelly hairstylewise.
SUPERB!
Cheers, Jasper

Wild Raspberries

I love birthdays, I get so many books.
One of the better ones is "Wild Raspberries" by Andy Warhol and Suzie Frankfurt. It is a recipe book for the affluent 60's New Yorker. In response to Hieronymous's recipe post, I will put up a few gems for the enjoyment of the public. Only time I have ever laughed myself silly at a cookbook.

Halloween and What I've Been Listening To

Halloween- majorly fun. Peaches and SPARKLY and I handed out candy to some amazingly cute kids in fuzzy little tiger suits. Later, we roamed the dark streets in costume, soaking up the chill night air. Just this once it didn't actually snow. Wow. But more on that later, when I report on another important Fall holiday namely MY BIRTHDAY...
SO:
The Great Jasper List of What I've Been Listening To!!!
Dandy Warhols:
Not If You Were the Last Junkie on Earth "Never thought you'd be a junkie because heroin is so passe." Well not according to FAB's shirt it isn't. Then again these europeans are crazy, eh? (I'm still pissed about that.)
Every Day Should Be A Holiday, one of my favorite song circa fourth grade, I used to sit on my brother's floor while he did his homework and sing along. He recently gave me his Dandy Warhols concert shirt. It's HUGE!
Clash:
Hateful (Vanilla tapes version) I just got a used Clash book for a mere fiver and I am immensely proud of it. Anyways I love this song, both in the LP version and in the rehearsal version.
barenaked ladies:
Pinch Me- another one of those songs I associate with bro's dark red carpet
Jane- song number 436 to be about "Jane" not to mention the band Jane's Addiction...there's a girl called Jane in my art class which cracks me up.
Velvet Underground (with or without Nico):
I've been on a HUGE Velvets kick lately and I blame you, Lindsay. Anyway...
All Tomorrow's Parties-"And what costumes shall the poor girl wear..." listening to this and working on my costume for all tomorrow's parties.
Femme Fatale-"She's just a little tease" tied for fave Nico number
I'll Be Your Mirror- "reflect what you are..." see above
Waiting For The Man- Sid should've covered this one instead of "Chinese Rocks". This is another bro fave
Candy Says- gorgeous drag queen song about a gorgeous drag queen
Pale Blue Eyes- classic
What Goes On- ditto
I'm Beginning to See The Light- and I am, I really am!
After Hours- "all the people are dancing and they're having such fun, I wish it could happen to me. But if you close the door, I'll never have to see the day again."
Sweet Jane- "...and I'm in a rocknroll band!" I LOVE THIS SONG!
Kinks:
Celluloid Heroes- "Avoid treading on dearest Marilyn, because she's not very tough"
Lola- Giraffe calls me Lola...long story...
Muswell Hillbilly- this one always reminds me of the drive from San Francisco to Mendocino: "this young man has volunteered to share the music of the Kinks with you..."
Beach Boys:
Fun Fun Fun "til her daddy takes the Tbird away!"
Franz Ferdinand:
You Could Have It So Much Better- I love this song
Walk Away- "why don't you walk away no buildings will fall down why don't you walk away no quake will split the ground why don't you walk away the sun won't swallow the sky why don't you walk away statues will not cry?"
Outsiders- we ARE tho.
White Stripes
Seven Nation Army came on in a cafe, I love their cover art.