An Endless Night, Silver Star Spangled

Assuming the sign of a stellar show is wanting to hear more as soon as you walk out the door, Nick Cave was one screaming success. When I got home I couldn't help but stay up and search youtube for good vids and juicy tidbits on his personal life. What can I say, even with that hair and stache he is a damn sexy man. He's got moves. Here's a hodgepodge, in no particular order as you will see....

The top is Henry Lee, from Murder Ballads ('96), and here's an excellent live version. What I never knew (or knew before the early-onset-alzheimers) was that Nick and PJ were a couple, and their break-up was the catalyst for The Boatman's Call ('97). Now that I know (or remember), it makes perfect sense... Here's "Into My Arms" and "People Ain't No Good" from Boatman's Call.

And here's the spookier sounds of Let Love In ('94) with "Do You Love Me?" and "Red Right Hand," live and not live.

From No More Shall We Part ('01), here's a live cut of "Love Letter" and a video (that I'm LOVING) for "Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow." Look, there's Jarvis Cocker! I'd kill for Nick to come perform in an office conference room and get all the stuffed shirts to cut a rug. What a badass idea for a video, no?

Another favorite from 1990's The Good Son is The Ship Song, and here's the video version with a funny interview intro on why he didn't approve of the execution. Bad hair day.

riDICKulous

A lady up in Canada was recently compelled to complain to IKEA about a photo in its catalogue, which -thanks to some Freudian shadows- makes a dog's leg look like a giant human penis. While it's pathetic anyone would give a damn about the phallic mirage, IKEA's response is hilarious ~ They've assured customers it's only a leg ("See, see, the bulbous formation is actually a doggy knee. Swear!") while urging them to focus on all the cool products for sale instead of the giant dong.

p.s. Wikipedia's "penis" page is NSFW! What? This post required exhaustive research.

"Gone are the Days of Rainbows...

...gone are the nights of swinging from the stars."

In anticipation of seeing Mr. Cave and his Bad Seeds tonight (exciting!), here's an old favorite, "Straight to You." Sorry, the vid's scary, but I love this song with all its grandiose drama, befitting the most broken-hearted and weak ~

This is the time of our great undoing
...
Heaven has denied us its kingdom
The saints are drunk and howling at the moon
The chariots of angels are colliding
Well, I'll run, babe, I'll come running
Straight to you…

If you've ever felt that inexplicable draw toward another while knowing something's off yet you just can't keep yourself from going back 'cause it feels so good (for a moment), you can probably relate.

Counterintuitive

Caption: huh?

Can someone please explain to me why Chicagoans insist on piling on needless layers of clothing at even the itsby bitsy teeny weeniest sign of cooler weather? We're talking a 10 degree dip here, ladies. Even when the high still nears 80, if the morning is brisk you can count on seeing many a girl donned in absurd garb like scarves, jeans-tucked-into knee-boots, wool caps (no joke!) and leather jackets or long coats. We're talkin' *all*of*the*above*on*one*person, not just a scattered smattering. My friend swears she saw someone already sporting a puffy coat. I want to find that girl and throw paint on her. It makes no sense, but so help me I want to do it.

I get that most Chicagoans own an inordinate amount of cool winter gear. I get that, but I daresay we will all have plenty of time to show it off. As in EIGHT months. No need to jump the gun, eager beavers. I'm just sayin'.

Two-Faced Book

Carnies

Victory for Annabel Bonney!

A little sumfin in celebration of the coolest clawless cat both sides the Mississippi returning to chez GTA today in finest of feline form. Welcome home to Annabelly Bonney!

Haiku

This is not one. But... if it should inspire anyone to cook a haiku up, do share. That would make me happier than my dog with a french fry, which I can confidently say is happier than a bird with one.

Today I Learned

1. When one form of mass transit goes gangbusters awry, forms B (bus) and C (taxi) go down the tubes with it;

2. It takes 45 minutes for me to walk from my apartment to work;

3. It's a lovely day outside. 45 minutes of walking coupled with said lovely day equals plenty of time to work up some ole fashioned down home perspiration and lots of it;

4. Secret deodorant should be taken down for legal misrepresentation in a class-action lawsuit. (Any other class members out there?);

5. On even the most unbreathable of fabrics, a bold-on-navy pattern compassionately hides unseemly sweat; and

6. The most well-worn suede sandal flats still give blisters when one is on a mission.

And it's not even 10:00 a.m.

"My Bat Lightning Heart...

...wants to fly away."

Today's Earworm du Jour popped up in shuffle this morning and has a video that's about as cool as the song itself... It's Bat for Lashes doing "What's A Girl To Do?"

Cotton Pickin' Budget

Speak o' the devil (home), last week's 20x200 pick reminds me a bit of it too. This one is in Mississippi ("Cotton Field, Mississippi" by Shuli Hallak), but there are lots of cotton fields in NC. I only ever passed them in my car, but they always fascinated me... how it is that cotton pops out of a plant like that is beyond me. Not quite as beyond me as how it is a plane stays up in the air, but beyond me all the same. I really wanted to buy one of these (and last I checked there were almost 100 left!), but I'm trying to control myself. Isn't it so pretty how the fluff of the cotton mirrors the fluff of the clouds? I shall admire it from afar...

"The Most Tender Place in My Heart..."

... is for strangers."

I love that line. I'm not sayin' it's right, but I like it.

The Hideout Block Party did not dissapoint. I heard a Canadian band I'd never heard before, called Black Mountain. They might be a bit too "jammy" for my taste, but the lead singer was bad-ass. She just stood there subtly swaying and nodding her head to the beat, occassionally belting out some gorgeous icey-cool vocals. Cross Janis Joplin with Mazzy Star, and throw in a few warbles. I could do without the warbles, personally, but she earned 'em. My easily-distracted-by-unimportant-things-side also loved that she had no waist yet still wore a waist-cinching dress. But I digress.

Neko Case was the headliner and sounded great once the soundguys got their GeeDee heads out of their arses (not 'til SIX songs in after she'd already played one of my FAVORITES). There's a sound guy out there who needs to be shot. Okay, fine, maybe he just needs to be canned, but the piper needs to be paid. If you've never seen Neko live, you really must. Just like a songbird, she sounds just as beautiful live (when some amateur doesn't fuck it up), and she's a hoot to boot. Here she is at a different concert asking guys to stop wearing girly pants, a sentiment I wholeheartedly share. Stop making us stare at your mooseknuckles, damnit! You know you do it too. Tight pants are man's answer to plunging necklines. They want us to look, I'm sure of it.

Thanks to gg for her fashion commiseration (I ponder if "What Not to Wear" could take on an entire city?) and for reminding me of the deliciousness of a North Carolina hot dog. I had a couple bites despite myself, and boy do slaw and chili do a dog good. Even though I rarely partook back in NC, I had to agree with gg that it tasted like home. Thanks to B for the ticket, and for fearlessly shedding a tear or two at the sound of a pretty voice. I mean, after a few brews. We know, it was just the beer talkin'.

Biking to and fro the show was almost as fun as the show itself.... except for when some assholes shined a flashlight in my face to scream at me that I should be wearing a helmet, and "helmets save lives!" I'm well aware, Brothers Helpful. Thank you kindly, BUT (a) my head is too big. (b) it was hot. and (c) if you're so concerned about my well-being, why are you screaming in my face and blinding me with your flashlight?? Of course I didn't say a word. I just put on my best poker face, pedaled fiercely onward, and pretended not to see or hear a thing (no, not a peep).