Well, we survived the Jerry Springer visit yesterday – my relations are actually in better shape than I expected. We waited for them at a dismal Cracker Barrel in Hagerstown, MD and honestly almost everyone who walked through the door could have been mi familia from the other side of the tracks – lots of sallow complexions, run-down expressions and unkept ensembles. I was so hungry I ordered biscuits and gravy – it had the consistency of snot and looked like a bowl of tepid jizz – nasty. They finally showed up and we had a nice visit. My uncle came too and hadn’t seen him in over ten years. Fortunately my cousin is over his Marilyn Manson stage, was not on chemicals as far as I could tell, and did not have rubber snakes coming out of ears – he has actually turned out to be quite articulate, artistic, creative, and thoughtful and was really excited about moving into his new trailer – which is apparently very retro with the original linoleum. I sent him this book today as a housewarming. Of course there is much drama going on with them but I think my aunt sort of gets off on tragedy. They’ve really had difficult lives and I hope things will get better. It was really nice catching up with them.
On the way back we stopped at the Outlets and I finally bought new towels. The towels I have been using are at least 40 years old and are what we used to bathe our dogs. My new ones are nice, pale green with Indian elephants embroidered on the bottom – totally goes with my space. Also I bought a white Indian cotton embroidered shirt.
Based on a review that I read in Uncut at the beach, and hungry for some fresh music, I stopped by Tower and bought two Hawksley Workman discs. Let me just say this shit is amazing. Damn those Canadians – they got it going on! This kid is all swagger, sway, strut, purr, coo, growl and grind - punctuated by ecstaic yelps, sensual sighs with his Freddy Mercury muti-octave chops. Guys definately got a confident libido (and I'm all for putting the smut back in music) and a cocky talent - but it all pours down so smooth that any perceptions of preciousness (and that is one thing I LOATHE) or pretentiousness evaporate when this pop tart lierally blows the roof off from over yr head. Amazing talent. Take the electric stomp and glide of 70’s glam (Bowie, T-Rex), throw in a bit of a Sparklehorse with a higher sprem count, mix Prince's Dirty Mind with Leonard Cohen's libidinous poetic wordplay and the substantial grasp of European and North American folk tradition and art song of a die-hard with a hard-on troubadour (like Scott Walker or Jacques Brel), add the expansive and urgent self-absorption of Jeff and Tim Buckley, the clever and lush orchestration of Andrew Bird- and its all propelled with pulsating rhythm - oh forget it, this guy is beyond category. He’s huge in France. And the lyrics… “Jealous of your Cigarette”… brilliant. One could compare him to Rufus Wainwright, but honestly Hawksley Workman could kick his fey, tired, skinny, whiney, recovering ass on the playground any day. In fact, I belive Hawksley Workman has singlehandedly cockblocked my allegiances. I’ve had the first track, “Striptease,” from his second album, (Last Night We were Like) Delicious Wolves in my head all day and can’t wait to go home and listen to it again. I haven’t even really listened to the other album I bought, For Him and the Girls, yet – I’m still savouring Delicious Wolves. Workman has a new one out, Lover/Fighter, and if it doesn’t get US release in say, a week, I’ll be forced to buy the import. Great start to the new year, really gets my blood pumping!
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