Universe Speaks, Random Mixer Writes

God bless my Artist Of The Year for his "honest to Christ, honest to Christ" performance last week, and God bless Mary Lucia for having me on to talk MUSIC a few days ago.

It's Sunday night and I'm gonna let the iPod godz shuffle and verily I say unto you that for this week's mix (1/9/06) I will write about whatever comes up, sorta like automatic writing or messages from the grave (luvs, I now feel comfortable enough with you to confess that my 8th grade science project at Annunciation was "Communication With The Dead"; I got a 'B' and some weird looks), only not like that at all. Here goes nothing. Play, shuffle…

1. "Magia," Pilar Montenegro. What a wretched song. What can I tell you? After my basketball squad, the Pearl Carrots, got throttled by McCrae 40-12, and after post-game tacos on Saturday, I bought a bitchin' shirt from El Primo on Lake Street. Black, all polyester, with an embroidered Our Lady Of Guadalupe stitched on the breast and back. The woman at the counter spoke no English, and my Spanish is rusty, but I'm pretty sure she said, "With this you are officially the most handsome bad-ass gringo in town." Caliente!

2. "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," The Band. First time I heard this was at the free stage at the State Fair in about 1974. My pal Rick Schreiber and I decided we were going to bring only five dollars to the Fair, and do all the free stuff. Big mistake. We never got to the Midway, but we ate our bag lunches and sat through a cover band that introduced us to The Band. Priceless, brother.

3. "If Not Here," Michelle Shocked. A stunner. One soul baring all to another, about trying to walk the line, and resting in peace on earth in a lover's arms: "If not here, then where?"

4. "Stupid Girl," The Rolling Stones. Nick Hornby was recently asked, "Let It Bleed or Sticky Fingers?" Dude should have answered, "Aftermath."

5. "Kill Your Television," Ned's Atomic Dustbin. Good idea, crap song. Delete. I'd rather listen to something my old pal Jim Peterson sent me ��" Little Steven or "Miami" Steve talking about the legacy of "Howl."

6. "Crowded In The Wings," The Jayhawks. Beautiful tune; it always takes me back to 35W in Texas years ago, driving 100 miles an hour all by my happy lonesome self down to SXSW. Makes me think about Terri Sutton and Dave Paulson and campfires and Summit and the old City Pages offices and this ratty motel I stayed in in Oklahoma City and I'm pretty sure I'm going back this year, because Neil Young's gonna be there.

7. "Art Lover," The Kinks. Nabokov and Humbert Humbert had nothing on Ray Davies, the dirty bastard.

8. "I Met A Girl," Wheat. So full of wanderlust and reverence for femme-mystery and romantic love, I never get sick of it, or the T-shirt, or when it's on the radio, coming out of that Yeah Yeah Yeah's "they don't love you like I love you" deal.

9. "I Try," Macy Gray. Never gets old. Always rips me up. "I try to keep my cool," she says, but instead here she is, singing like the caged bird who just met her match. Ang Lee or Jane Smiley reference here.

10. "Jesus On The Radio," Guster. Goddamn January. It starts out with all that new-firing energy, and at some point, like last night, you get reminded that you're stuck with yourself. Same old me, different day. Why bother? Why bleed or feed or try to do anything? Why not just go away, close up shop…

11. "Wonderland," Eliza Gilkyson. "Take off your old coat, take off your dark cloud, shake off your reservations, come play with me/I don't need promises or happily-ever-after maybes/I just want your sweet kisses/Hey, don't you know what this is, baby?" Yes! Yes! Yes! "This is wonderland!" Thank you, baby; I needed that. Oh, and nothing says Minnesota winter like my friend Craig on a frozen lake near Cass Lake. With the families. Sub-zero. Looking at the stars. Drinking chilled Jagermeister And me with my new camera. Cheers:

12. "Urban Guerilla," The Suburbs. From Big Hits Of Mid-America, Vol. II. Words to live by: "Fuck that poetry, you gotta fight for it."

13. "Caravan," Nick Heyward. From From Sunday To Monday, a blast of Brit boy-pop. Dunno if Itunes or Wippit has it, but it's worth gobbling up, especially for this top-down sunny-side upper, which goes ever-so nicely with R.E.M.'s "Catapult." "She still loves to play the Jam," always reminds me of Jeaneen.

14. "When You're Old and Lonely," The Magnetic Fields. "When you're old and lonely, you'll wish you'd married me." That's just the beginning, and what follows is the dark side of the Yeats poem that goes like this.

15. "El Ciclon," La Sonora Dinamita. From Colombia, with love.

16. "Will Your Lawyer Talk To God?," Kitty Wells. Hell hath no fury like a fire-and-brimstone-and-litigious woman scorned.

17. "Mozart: Porgi amor (from Le Nozze di Figaro)," Maria Callas. I could be a good atheist. But when I see a winter, spring, fall, or summer vista or hear the sound of a voice that makes me rethink and refeel everything vis-à-vis "simple" beauty, I feel obliged to thank some one/thing for it, so I thank whatever my version of God is at the moment.

18. "Tell Me What You Want Me To Do," Charles Wright & The Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band. Thank you, God.

19. "Milkshake," Kelis. Took the kids bowling the other night. First ball, fell flat on my face. Foot foul. Got up, glasses hanging off my nose, limping, to guffaws all around, including plenty of wildly entertained strangers. During the second game, when she got bored, my daughter's seven-year-old friend Sophia sang this to my seven-year-old daughter, complete with the "Warm it up, the boys are waiting" bit. Where's my shotgun?

20. "Freedom," Amanda Ghost & The Armchair Resistance. Almost as good as her "Idol" and "Filthy Mind." House music as release.