Here is the language I have settled on. There is no sleeping now. It is not possible when you know what the night is for. Here is the bed I will not return to. There is no city now. It is not possible when you know what longing is for. Here is the legacy I leave behind. There is no hesitating now. It is not possible when you have been given a body that does not quite fit, that wants to wear your scars with pride.
I thought Pratt’s On Your Own Love Again was the best album of 2015, and I am feeling confident her new album, Quiet Signs, out Feb. 8, will be a strong contender for best album of 2019.
What strikes me about the material I’ve heard so far is how she has used the canvas of a recording studio to make something even more intimate and gossamer-like than her previous 4-track work.
Like if you opened your eyes while listening to it, it would end the way a dream does.
Anyway, very strongly encouraging you to pick up her new album when it comes out, especially since RTI is pressing it, so it should be flat, centered, and quiet, which almost describes her music.
I have no suit, no watch, and nowhere to be. For all I know, I am not waiting for anyone, but no one tells me anything. At least not what I want to hear. After a while, you stop waiting. You find a suit and a watch and somewhere to be, even if it is standing in front of a mirror wondering what it was that kept you so long.
All I ever wanted was a window in a room where any voice could reach me. Where I could take notes and diagnose the night. Where I could finally get some sleep without disturbance. Where I could wait for you to arrive.
Before Lou Reed became known for songs that declared heroin was his life and his wife, or a double album of feedback that sounds like seagulls dying in a casino (I happen to love the album, btw), he dabbled in pop music, recording first with a vocal group, then solo, then as a songwriter and artist at Pickwick.
Pickwick released a lot of cheap knock-offs where the goal was to emulate popular artists and music trends of the day.
Reed can be heard singing and playing on a few Pickwick releases that he wrote, or co-wrote, including this, Cycle Annie:
from this window, i cannot see the stars. only the dust of industry. maybe another room might greet me more warmly. but here, i can be the stranger i always meant to be, here i can live a life uncompromised by being known.
Every once in a while, I remember I was going to make this blog about music.
So in that spirit, let’s talk The La’s.
Formed in the early ’80s, the band knocked about for a year or so until Lee Mavers joined the lineup.
Mavers would go on to be the de facto leader and principal songwriter for the group.
He also essentially was the undoing of the group.
By 1987, the band had issued its first single, Way Out, a single that garnered some praise from the press and Morrissey, but it barely charted.