It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You'd been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane's awake --

She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear

Sincerely, L. Cohen

Walau kepergian kakak saya MEMANG menjadikan saya anak tunggal-cum-pesuruh tunggal, sekaligus membuat rumah jadi lebih sepi,

UNTUNGNYA, kepergian dia ikut merubah status kepemilikan barang-barang di rumah... sehingga:

1. I own the computer

2. I own the tape

3. and , I own all the CDs!!!!!

(walau cuma satu tahun, sayangnya)

Artinya, saya bisa memutar CD-CD punya dia yang seabrek-abrek itu. Waktu saya obrak-abrik lemari CD-nya saya nemu beberapa koleksi yang langsung saya embat buat diputer di kamar saya, pakai tape dia. Karena punya saya sudah rusak sejak lama. Jadi sejak dia pergi, aktivitas belajar saya lebih semarak karena tiba-tiba saya punya tambahan koleksi CD buat diputer.

Untuk malam ini saya tiba-tiba pengeng ngedenger lagi Leonard Cohen's Songs of Love and Hate, gara2 baca berburuvinyl. Waktu saya obrak-abrik lemari CD-nya, saya nyaris putus asa gara-gara nggak ketemu-ketemu. Begitu nyaris nangis (???) di pojokan lemari saya nemu satu CD berlatar belakang hitam dengan font putih yang besar. Alhamdulillah.

Dan, gila, dari tadi saya dengerin bener-bener mantap. Kalau ada satu kata yang harus saya pilih untuk nggambarin album ini, itu adalah 'emosional'. Kalau dua kata, jadi "sangat emosional. Dan, kalau tiga kata, "benar-benar emosional".

Untuk memberi gambaran, saya kasih cuplikan lirik dari album ini, dari lagu "Joan of Arc" (salah satu track favorit saya di sini, yang lain adalah Famous Blue Raincoat)

now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
As she came riding through the dark
No moon to keep her Armour bright
Then no man to get her through this darkest very smoky night

She said I'm tired of the war
I want the kind of work I had before
with a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite"

Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way
You see I've watched you riding almost every single day
and there is someting in me yearns to win
such a very cold and such a very lonesome heroine

"Well then, who are you?" she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the snoke
"Why, I'm, I'm fire," he replied
"And i love your solitude, how i love your sense of pride"

"Well then fire, make your body cold
I'm gonna give you mine to hold"
Saying this she climbed inside
To be his one, to be his only bride

It was deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of a Joan of Arc
And high above all these assembled wedding guests

He hung the ashes of her very lovely wedding dress

It was deep into his fiery heart
That he took the dust of Joan of Arc
Then she clearly understood
If he was fire, oh she must be wood

I saw her wince, I saw her cry
I saw the glory in her eye
Myself, I long, I long for love and light
But must it comes so cruel, and must it be so very bright?

P.S: saya cukup kaget waktu nemu CD Rod Stewart yang Every Pictures Tell A Story . Bukannya itu album yang jelek, tapi... Rod Stewart!?

Missar dock kvällens partiledardebatt på SVT, men den går säkert att se i efterhand så förlusten känns inte speciellt tung. Och år 2008 känns svenska valet om två år inte allt för sexigt, speciellt som det amerikanska börjar gå emot slutsekunderna och farfar McCain kommer med nya spännande lögner och attacker varje dag...

Then you will know that maybe is the time

To dance me to the end of love...

Remember that I wait somewhere.

A conversation with an Octoberfest drunk went something like this.

"Hey, can I ask your name? I see you around everywhere - you know me, right? Do you know from where?"

"Here, I think. I'm Michael."

"Aren't night shifts fun? I used to work here."

"I only have to put up with it for one more week. I gave my notice last Monday."

"Why?"

"I feel bad working here."

"Because the job sucks. It's such bullshit."

"I've gone through hundreds of non-recyclable cups, double-cups, and tossed a forest in the waste-bin alongside petroleum plastic lids, pouring out every twenty minutes a middle-aged Columbian's slave-wage tears to keep an arbitrary standard of freshness for roaming bands of spoiled and likely fat North Americans who aspire to mediocrity, that won't notice the difference in the coffee's age because they pump it so full of child-harvested sugar and bovine growth hormone that it bares only a mute resemblance to what is commonly known as 'coffee.' When I'm not doing that, I'm throwing out food products that could survive nuclear disaster but are granted only a six hour shelf-life. Any amount of time here is too long, and I don't want to do it anymore - it's wrong."

"Um, wow. You're really smart. How come you started working here in the first place?"

"Because I'm also a whore."

"No, man. You're more like a fucking saint."

"Thanks, but I'm not even close. Listen to me though, when I say that sainthood is the only thing worth aspiring to in this life."

"Ha. The only thing?"

"Yes, the only thing."

"Hmm... you're probably fuckin' right. Give me a large double-double."

By 7 AM I've poured thousands of pain-wrought hours down the sink, and I've satisfied mirages in an all-night paradise that will never close.

...

What is a saint? A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos; if he did the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is the caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.

- L. Cohen, Beautiful Losers (1966)

A conversation with an Octoberfest drunk went something like this.

"Hey, can I ask your name? I see you around everywhere - you know me, right? Do you know from where?"

"Here, I think. I'm Michael."

"Aren't night shifts fun? I used to work here."

"I only have to put up with it for one more week. I gave my notice last Monday."

"Why?"

"I feel bad working here."

"Because the job sucks. It's such bullshit."

"I've gone through hundreds of non-recyclable cups, double-cups, and tossed a forest in the waste-bin alongside petroleum plastic lids, pouring out every twenty minutes a middle-aged Columbian's
slave-wage tears to keep an arbitrary standard of freshness for roaming bands of spoiled and likely fat North Americans who aspire to mediocrity, that won't notice the difference in the coffee's age because they pump it so full of child-harvested sugar and bovine growth hormone that it bares only a mute resemblance to what is commonly known as 'coffee.' When I'm not doing that, I'm throwing out food products that could survive nuclear disaster but are granted only a six hour shelf-life. Any amount of time here is too long, and I don't want to do it anymore - it's wrong."

"Um, wow. You're really smart. How come you started working here in the first place?"

"Because I'm also a whore."

"No, man. You're more like a fucking saint."

"Thanks, but I'm not even close. Listen to me though, when I say that sainthood is the only thing worth aspiring to in this life."

"Ha. The only thing?"

"Yes, the only thing."

"Hmm... you're probably fuckin' right. Give me a large double-double."

By 7 AM I've poured thousands of pain-wrought hours down the sink, and I've satisfied mirages in an all-night paradise that will never close.

...

What is a saint? A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos; if he did the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is the caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.

- L. Cohen, Beautiful Losers (1966)

*** Leonard Cohen - Dance Me To The End Of Love ***

Lyrics

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Det blir ingen fantastisk och makalös Leonard Cohen för min del på söndag kväll.
Vi får nämligen inget presspass åt mig så jag skulle vara tvungen att köpa en biljett för att få komma in och recensera.
But that I won't do.
Pengarna är för tillfället inte riktigt på min sida om vi säger så.

Jag hade en känsla och tanke någonstans där i bakhuvudet om att mat skulle vara lite viktigare.
Jag vet inte riktigt hur den ekvationen skulle gå ihop eftersom Cohen är bra mycket hälsosammare än en veckas mat.
Dessutom - om jag ser och hör Cohen så behöver jag inte äta på en månad. Så då kanske jag tjänar på att köpa biljett ändå?

 
Har ägnat dagen åt att trösta mig med att lyssna på den mörka men ändock så upplyftande LPn I'm Your Man mest hela dagen.

So I had 2 hours of the same song over and over again, however in amongst the warbling were a couple of Nigel Slater Podcasts. I exited Temple Meads station on a happy cloud of foodie thoughts having had the joy of Nigel extolling the virtue of Autumn produce...despite his recommendation for Autumn cake being coffee and walnut (nuts being in season) I still have that apple cake lurking around in my head... I am also now in a "good place", no blues despite it being 10 days 'til pay day and despite having sat through the same Leonard Cohen song (interspersed with the Sugar Plum fairy and the theme from Shaft played on a ukulele) for 2 hours straight.

So that Apple cake then ? Well I made it, and well it wasn't a very restful experience, having come home in a good mood I was feeling distinctly frazzled by the end...

Firstly it turns out that I could have made this one last Wednesday when I was fantasising about it... it seems that I accidentally turned a page or two and had started reading the recipe for the carrot cake, secondly I messed up separating eggs as I was trying to concentrate on keeping the kitten out of the batter (omelet tomorrow then ?) and then finally, as I was smoothing out the batter across the top of the cake tin and fretting that I might have used slightly bigger than stated apples, I realised that my plastic spatula was half the size it was when I started the cake... anyway, all sorted now, cake is cooking gently in the oven and I wish I could say the house was filled with the sensuous smell of apples marinade in cinnamon, but truthfully all I can smell is virgin olive oil, but I guess I should look at the bright side, it could have been the acrid smell of sauteing plastic !

Recipe to follow tomorrow with a verdict as we have a friend for dinner (actually we have meatballs, as eating people is not recommended)

-- Leonard Cohen

in today's trouser press:

- Kristin Hersh brings The Shady Circle to London
- Alela Diane is the voice of Headless Heroes
- remixers ruffle the feathers of Au Revoir Simone
- Melanie Garside returns as Maple Bee
- lost Gershwin tunes brought to life by Victoria Hart
- Loreena McKennitt gets festive, again
- Martha Wainwright and others cover Leonard Cohen, again
- Madonna lashes out at Sarah Palin
- Canadian artists raise environmental awareness pre-election 

* * *

Having toured her autobiography-as-performance art show ‘Paradoxical Undressing' (which, it appears, will eventually come out as a book), Kristin Hersh brings her latest project, The Shady Circle, to London in November. A follow-up of sorts to her Appalachian folk song collection Murder, Misery & Then Goodnight, The Shady Circle is basically just Kristin, an electric guitar, an amp and songs and stories galore.

Curious? Well, we've had a root around the internets and found a lovely live recording of a house concert in which several Shady Circle songs were performed - ‘Willie Moore', ‘Waiting For The One Train', ‘Children Oh Children', ‘Dusty Road' - as well as a few Kristin/Throwing Muses originals. And the best bit? It's free and legal to download. Get part one here and part two here.

London's The Borderline plays host to The Shady Circle on November 23rd.

* * *

If you haven't yet become acquainted with the supremely talented Alela Diane, whose 2007 album The Pirate's Gospel was deservedly hailed as a masterpiece, then another opportunity is waiting in the wings. Alela is the voice of Headless Heroes, a new covers project dreamt up by A&R man Eddie Bezalel (Alice Smith, Mark Ronson) and brought to life by a crack team of musicians.

Billed as a "simply beautiful collection of lost classics and unearthed gems sung with arresting clarity", The Silence Of Love (out November 10th) is the ensemble's debut album that tackles bittersweet songs of love and loss spanning 40 years. Classics from Vashti Bunyan, Linda Perhacs and The Gentle Soul mingle seamlessly with more modern selections from Daniel Johnston, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds and The Jesus & Mary Chain.

Alela describes the project as "pure fun", adding: "It was quite liberating to just sing! And not worry about it being my record, or it being different from the type of music that I'm used to making...I was able to use all different parts of my voice, from what I do in my own songs, to what I learned while singing in the school choir."

The Silence Of Love
01 True Love Will Find You In The End
02 Just One Time
03 Here Before
04 Just Like Honey
05 To You
06 Blues Run The Game
07 Hey Now Who Really Cares
08 Nobody's Baby Now
09 North Wind Blew South
10 See My Love

* * *

The ladies of Au Revoir Simone might be busy working on their third album with producer Thom Monahan (Devendra Banhart, Brightblack Morning Light) but the bundle in the stork's beak coming our way next month is an entirely different beast altogether. Reverse Migration is a new and finely feathered collection of remixes of songs from the trio's 2007 album The Bird Of Music, with contributions from the likes of Hot Chip's Alexis Taylor, We Are Scientists' Keith Murray and James Yuill.

Much like last year's Stars remix album, Reverse Migration largely follows the sequence of its parent album and features some tracks that aren't so much remixes as covers. Sheffield duo Slow Club take on opener ‘The Lucky One', while Keith Murray and Alexis Taylor separately tackled ‘Don't See The Sorrow' and former single ‘Sad Song', respectively.

The album is out on November 10th through Our Secret Recording Company.

Reverse Migration
01 Slow Club - The Lucky One
02 Au Revoir Simone - Sad Song [pacific! remix]
03 Au Revoir Simone - Fallen Snow [the teenagers remix]
04 Au Revoir Simone - I Couldn't Sleep [darkel remix]
05 Au Revoir Simone - A Violent Yet Flammable World [montag remix]
06 Keith Murray - Don't See The Sorrow
07 Au Revoir Simone - Dark Halls [best fwends remix]
08 Au Revoir Simone - Night Majestic [matt harding remix]
09 Au Revoir Simone - Stars [disco pusher remix]
10 Au Revoir Simone - Lark [ruff and jam remix]
11 Au Revoir Simone - The Way To There [mark-anthony tieku remix]
12 Alexis Taylor - Sad Song
13 Au Revoir Simone - The Lucky One [james yuill remix]

In the US, digital retailers iTunes and Amazon will each offer exclusive tracks. iTunes customers can get a ReRunner remix of ‘The Way To There', while Amazon has an Air France remix of ‘Sad Song'.

* * *

Melanie Garside, Katiejane's younger sister, has revived her alter ego Maple Bee for new album Home, out October 13th. The follow-up to 2004's critically acclaimed double album Chasing Eva, Home sees Maple Bee take a more stripped back approach, merging organic sounds with electronica to create an intriguing album that isn't afraid to whisper or roar when occasion calls for it. The lead track from the album will be ‘No Place', for which a video has been shot with Grammy Award winning director Kate Schermerhorn.

Home
01 While You Were Sleeping
02 Quiet, The Silent World
03 Me & Rose
04 Mirror
05 No Place
06 Queen 23
07 I Want It All
08 Sweetness In Your Light
09 Somebody Take Me Home
10 So Far From Lost
11 This Face, This Name

* * *

For her second album, 19 year old jazz vocalist Victoria Hart has the honour of bringing to life some of revered composer George Gershwin's rarer works for a modern day audience. Victoria and Kerenza Peacock of the Pavao string quartet travelled to the Library of Congress in Washington DC to browse hundreds of rare and unfinished Gershwin works found in an attic four years ago and whittled them down to 11 gems worthy of a second chance at life.

As well as the Pavao quartet, Victoria has enlisted the vocal talents of MOBO nominee Tony Kofi, Revelation (from the BBC's ‘The Last Choir Standing') and the usually insufferable Russell Watson on various songs. It was sounding so promising too. The Lost Gershwin is out on October 27th.

The Lost Gershwin
01 Tonight's The Night
02 Isn't It A Pity [feat. Russell Watson]
03 Ask Me Again [feat. Tony Kofi]
04 Vodka
05 I Won't Give Up [feat. Atila]
06 You Are You
07 My Sunday Fella
08 Innocent Lonesome Blues Baby [feat. Revelation]
09 Little Jazz Bird
10 I Can't Be Bothered Now
11 When You Want 'Em You Can't Get 'Em
12 I Won't Give Up [single version]

* * *

It's been 13 years since Loreena McKennitt's last collection of festive holiday songs - not that you'd know it as it seemingly gets reissued every Christmas - so what better way to honour that than by reissuing it again, only this time with a bunch of new songs added in. That, essentially, is the premise of her new release, A Midwinter Night's Dream, out on October 27th.

Recorded at Peter Gabriel's Real Worlds studios near Bath, McKennitt says that she wanted to "recapture some of the frankincense and myrrh in this music," adding that "The songs are rich with abundant references to the natural world and connections to our spiritual and religious bearings; it's clear that people have always used winter as a time of reflection."

Factoring in her usual array of influences - classical, Celtic and Middle Eastern - the new songs include a mystical reading of ‘The Holly & The Ivy', the Latin-sung ‘Emmanuel' and ‘Noël Nouvelet!', sung in Old French. A limited edition of A Midwinter Night's Dream comes packaged with recent tour documentary ‘A Moveable Musical Feast'.

A Midwinter Night's Dream
01 The Holly & The Ivy
02 Un Flambeau, Jeannette, Isabella
03 The Seven Rejoices of Mary
04 Noël Nouvelet!
05 Good King Wenceslas
06 Coventry Carol
07 God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen (Abdelli version)
08 Snow
09 Breton Carol
10 Seeds Of Love
11 Gloucestershire Wassail
12 Emmanuel
13 In the Bleak Midwinter

* * *

This year's love of all things Leonard Cohen continues next month with MOJO magazine's covermount CD featuring the likes of Martha Wainwright, Judy Collins, Linda Thompson, Katie Melua, Susanna & The Magical Orchestra and Allison Crowe interpreting the 74 year old bard's songs. Not all of them are new, alas, but Cohen is a more than worthy muse. Thankfully it's not Melua doing ‘Hallelujah': that honour goes to Susanna & The Magical Orchestra with the version that first appeared on their 2006 covers album Melody Mountain. Here's the full tracklist for the compilation. The issue hits the stands on November 1st.

01 Ian McCulloch - Suzanne
02 Katie Melua - In My Secret Life
03 Claudine Longet - Hey That's No Way To Say Goodbye
04 Dion - Sisters Of Mercy
05 Linda Thompson - Story Of Isaac
06 Eyeless In Gaza - Priests
07 Allison Crowe - Joan Of Arc
08 Susanna & The Magical Orchestra - Hallelujah
09 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Avalanche
10 Josh Ritter - Chelsea Hotel #2
11 Phil Campbell - Take This Longing
12 Martha Wainwright - Tower Of Song
13 Judy Collins - Song For Bernadette
14 The Handsome Family - Famous Blue Raincoat
15 Mr David Viner - Tonight Will Be Fine

* * *

Having already been criticised by John McCain's campaign spokesperson for her "outrageous, unacceptable and crudely divisive" tour video depicting the white-haired presidential hopeful interspersed with "villainous types" such as Hitler and North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il, Madonna has made her distaste for VP candidate Sarah Palin a matter of non-argument. While onstage during her Sticky & Sweet show in East Rutherford, New Jersey, at the weekend, the singer declared: "Sarah Palin can't come to this party...She is not in my show. She will never be in my show."

She later mocked Palin's Alaskan roots by comparing screeching guitar feedback to "the sound of Sarah Palin's husband's snowmobile when it won't start."

* * *

With all media interest focused on the Obama/McCain tussle south of the border, you'd be forgiven for not knowing that Canadians are due to go to the polls in six days for their own federal election. While the race for government is probably most influenced by the world economic downturn, a group of musicians have banded together for a democratic advocacy group to remind voters not to forget about the global climate change crisis. Sarah Harmer joins Hawksley Workman, members of Broken Social Scene and Barenaked Ladies, and others on ‘You Have A Choice', a song they hope will see current prime minister Stephen Harper ousted from office because of his poor environmental record. Listen to the song here.

* * *

Alan Pedder

Det är gott men drar ner kondisen, med tio procent sägs det, så nu har jag ett nyinköpt plåsterpaket, 21 mg, värstingarna, i badrumsskåpet som jag ska börja kleta på mig vilken dag som helst nu.
Jag vet att det går.
Så sent som i mars knäcktes ett flera decennier långt och tungt Ettanmissbruk med hjälp av sådana där plåster.
Men det är den där morronciggen, efter dagens första dubbla espresso.
Det är den som är så förbannat god att man skjuter upp den där omplåstringen bara en dag till.
Och en dag till.
Och en dag till ...
* * *
Jag har grubblat ända sedan jag såg Junya Satos film »Yamato«.
Varför hade kamikazepiloterna hjälm?
* * *
Man kan inte umgås med kalkoner om man vill lära sig flyga.
* * *
»Intellektuellt arbete byggde denna kropp«.
Tryck på Martina Lowdens t-shirt.
* * *
Man vill ju inte vara sämre än Folk å Rock-Ingo, så nu ger även jag mig in i den ojämna högermarginalgenren. Fast jag gör det på ärans och hjältarnas språk och inte på tocken där utrikiska som Ingo svänger sig med.

Leonard Cohen minns
kvinnan på hotellrummet
som föredrog snygga män
men gjorde ett undantag
för honom

Tom Waits kör
sakta sin Ol' 55
under de slocknande
stjärnorna
och Dolly Parton ser
ljuset från en klar
blå morgon
* * *
Kanske skulle man ta sig en lyssna bara på Van Morrison-vecka nån gång också. I skrivande stund i skrivarstugans cd-spelare är det dubbelmackan Hymns to the Silence. Mannen vailade nyss med rösten och nu viskar han och väser och muttrar och fräser och tungomålstalar och stammar i »Take Me Back«.
* * *
Upptäcker under en rökpaus på skrivarstugans veranda att kamelen på Camelpaketet bara har en puckel och alltså är en dromedar.
* * *
Undrar just om Robert därborta på Södermalm känner till den här nya biografin om och av The Clash?
* * *
Det visar sig att det inte var värre med Chippenskadan än att jag klarar att powerwalka ett varv runt sportfältet med The Boxer. Till och med en bit lätt jogging klarar baksidan på låret.
Tur det – vill fan inte ha tillbaka den där ölmagen som det har tagit så många nyktra år att lubba bort.
* * *
Den nya musiktjänsten Spotify blir man ju nyfiken på.
* * *
Men jag förstår dom. Vem skulle be om ett paket »Dromedar« i kiosken. Själv är jag oerhört noga med att ciggen jag röker ska ha ett tufft namn. Det är inte mycket till image man annars har kvar att vårda i den här åldern.
* * *
Klockan 13 i morgon kliver den ständige ut till världspressen och meddelar att en annan storrökare, Paul Auster, får årets Nobelpris i litteratur.

This reminds me of a radio program I heard that discussed singers in Christian churches who aren't Christians. The concept that a person could sing wonderful songs to God and yet not believe in him at its core is a mix of ignorance and blasphemy. It's like someone singing "Amazing Grace" who doesn't believe in grace or a rock star who promotes debauchery and yet praises God at the awards shows (I guess they're probably referencing that they started singing in church). What is also sad is there are probably a good number of people in Christian bands that probably don't believe in God or aren't living for him too.

Somewhere in the past the arts separated from Christianity, which is terribly ironic (The danger of course is to worship the art rather than the Creator). God gives humans the ability to create beautiful things and yet many people deny his existence and refuse to worship him with their art. The strange thing about it is that God's beauty and truth can emerge from the artwork of people who are anti-Christian. It's strange because the art is like a branch cut off from a tree. It's not connected to anything, but you still know it came from a tree.

Christians often talk about "taking back the arts" because non-Christians have monopolized many aspects of art. There are Christians who seem to believe that art can glorify God even when he's not explicitly in the artwork itself. Everyone has their opinions and I don't think you should dictate to people how they do their art. Rather we should realize that the whole earth is God's and his creative ability is the source of our ability to knit, cook, draw, paint, sing, write and make art, regardless of whether the activity itself is considered spiritual (every activity in life is spiritual, people just tend to compartmentalize). Not every piece of art has to be explicitly about God. However, if we believe everything we do is unto the glory of God and if he is the center of our existence, then God's Spirit will have no choice but to escape into the things we create.

-- Leonard Cohen

When I was 22 I fell utterly, deeply in love for the first time. It took a lot of courage to declare it. We were only together a short time and then he broke up with me for no apparent reason 4 days before I was due to start my first teaching job. Unsurprisingly I went to pieces (see blog posting about how ANyone can sit anywhere). What was worse was his utter failure to communicate with me. It was as if I had ceased to exist. I wrote letters and tore them up. Each letter I sent took so much courage it was like death. And he ignored them all. finally on a pretext I got his phone number (this was years later after I had failed to shuffle off his mortal coil) (Hamlet again) and phoned him. You can't imagine the courage that took. Or maybe you can. He answered the phone, I said my piece, and he was silent. Then he said

- Oh

I said

- Is that all you can say?

- Yeah, he said

In that moment, I ceased to feel anything for him.

Leonard, I was so hurt when I read what had happened to you. And then your reaction, when anyone else would have been jumping up and down and suing, demanding blood. You were never more of a hero to me than on that day. I wrote a poem for you and nearly sent it but I thought it was too direct and might wound you. I can only remember one verse. Call me and I will tell you.

As Aslan (another lion) said

"It has been hard for all of us in Narnia before now."

Also

"You could not have called to me unless I had been calling to you"

I could not have gone on this trip by myself.

Love always

L xxxx

It's almost embarrassing to admit, but given sufficient resources I would follow Rufus anywhere. Possible exceptions are Ravinia and festivals, the former of which I despise and the latter of which are too much of an endurance test for an old broad like me.  The morning after I saw Nick Cave last week, I spoke to a guy who told me he used to work for Cave and had seen him over 150 times.  A normal person hears the absurdity in that, but I just feel jealous because I can't do the same for Rufus and have "only" seen him ten times.

Having established that I may perhaps be a little touched in the head, the more interesting question is What drives a person to the kind of fanaticism that compels them to drop everything and spend hundreds, even thousands of dollars following a near-stranger around the country, even the world?  When the Release the Stars tour finally closed at Radio City Music Hall on Valentines Day 2008, I met a large contingent of folks who traveled all the way from the U.K.  One of them had also been at the Milwaukee show in August 2007, but we didn't manage to hook up that time so I was glad to finally meet her.  Fans don't need to ask fans why we do these things, because it's understood that we all would see every show if these things didn't cost a bundle and if we didn't have lives and kids and jobs to contend with.  Space Station Gamma?  I'm there, just let me stock up on Tang and space food sticks.

The one thing die-hard fans have in common is the impulse to follow the objects of our affections to the ends of the world, but the particulars that draw us to a given band or performer are utterly personal and idiosyncratic and as inexplicable to "normal" people as they are obvious to us.  It might feel to me as if I've been adoring Rufus all my life, but my spouse reminded me last night that I tend to move from one musical obsession to another.  Beginning with Harry Nilsson in 1970, followed by Elton John, The Kinks (Ray Davies), Hank Williams, Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley and then finally Rufus, I have found a chemistry with each person that drove me to explore and cherish their essences and creative productions to the fullest.

The only ones of these artists I've been lucky enough to see multiple times were the Kinks and Rufus Wainwright.  Hank Williams died six years before I was born, Harry Nilsson didn't do live shows and it's unlikely he would ever have played near Peoria, and my parents vetoed my one chance to see Elton John in his early 70s-heyday.  I caught Leonard Cohen at the Park West in 1994 and Jeff Buckley two nights running at the Green Mill in 1996, the latter of which looked like an outlandish extravagance at the time but which has since been more than validated as a precious, even historic opportunity.

The Kinks I saw more times than I could count, but I roughly estimate I saw about twenty shows.  I chased them to Louisville, Philadelphia, Madison, Milwaukee, and some college town in Indiana that I can't remember, not to mention many shows in and around Chicago.  So besotted was I with the the band that I waited by the stage door after shows and during sound checks for those tidbits of personal interaction with Ray Davies, often in the company of this woman.  The first time I saw him up close in the lobby of the O'Hare Hilton, I was struck completely dumb with awe, which inspired him to bend down (and down and down) to kiss my cheek.  I lived on that high for days, just as I did the time he scuttled past a group of us starstruck girls into the backstage door of the Uptown, only to return with five glasses and a bottle of champagne.

As much giddy fun as it could be sometimes, a few tours and several uncomfortable experiences down the line it dawned on me the schlepping and waiting around had become a chore.  After all, once you've given Ray Davies 40 presents for his 40th birthday, there is really nowhere left to go but down.  Not only had the band's music become increasingly-heavy handed, but I felt increasingly alienated and self-conscious about the whole process of hustling for acknowledgement from people who clearly didn't care remotely as much about me as I did about them.  My dear friend was rather upset with me when I opted out, but my heart just wasn't in it anymore.

Given my position on these matters, I decided early on not to make any effort to meet Rufus.  I never again wanted to see a fantastic concert and feel dejected because I "only" saw the show, so I made sure the show itself was the main event that it deserved to be.  I have never once regretted this, even when Rufus walked right past me on Belmont Avenue after a 2004 show at the Vic when my ride was late.  Had I not been chemo-sick I might at least have mustered a smile, but that's another story.

Looking over the list of performers I've become attached to, I stop to ponder what on earth they all have in common.  Some are outsize personalities like Elton John and Ray Davies, others more subdued like Harry Nilsson, but they all have written memorable songs (Jeff Buckley the least so, but I believe the potential was there).  What Jeff Buckley did have--in spades--was that ability to throw himself into a song and feel the music so intensely that you felt it along with him, just like Rufus.  Watching this kind of performance is the closest thing I know to a religious experience and an orgasm put together, and in all honesty Rufus can be quite the master of the o-face:

He is also smart and funny and does exquisite things with a piano, which is why I can't help feeling deprived when I'm too far away to catch every detail.  when he announced a February show at the Hard Rock in Las Vegas in 2004, I told myself I would search Ticketmaster just to see what was available, but I wouldn't buy a ticket because I had no way to go.  When a ticket in the fourth row came up, self-control went out the window and I bought it thinking "I will have to sell this, but you never know."  When a dear friend offered to pay for my hotel and airfare because I was seriously ill and he was far too kind for his own good, I went.  When you are inbetween your lumpectomy and beginning eight cycles of chemo, to be followed by 30 radiation treatments, you would be a fool not to jump at a chance like that while you knew you still had it.

My mother surely didn't raise no fool, so there I went.  If you watch the San Francisco Fillmore show DVD packaged with the Want Two CD, you will see a show very much like the one I saw at the Hard Rock just a couple of days before, from my fourth-row seat (stage right, no less).  Rufus opened those shows alone at the piano, singing "L'Absence," by Berlioz.  I am a jaded old hardass and don't tear up that easily, but I was just so overwhelmed by the beauty of the song and so grateful to be there after all I had already gone through that I cried and forgot to dread chemo for awhile.

Unfortunately I was unable to find a video clip of the Fillmore performance online, but you can listen to the audio here.  For those of you who simply must have the o-face, here is a August 1 2008 performance from Verbier, Switzerland with Gabriel Kahane at the piano.  When I finally exit this wicked world I would appreciate it if you could make sure this song and "Lost Highway" by Hank Williams are on the playlist, just my way of saying it was worth the trip and then some, partly because these songs exist:

And if by chance you found a pretty blue rhinestone frog by 1928 on the floor after that Las Vegas show (purchased in San Francisco, oddly enough), I wouldn't mind having it back unless your initials are R.W.

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

My love affair with franchising continues.

Everybody Knows

Performed by Rufus Wainwright

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that its now or never
Everybody knows that its me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when youve done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old black joes still pickin cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the plague is coming
Everybody knows that its moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But theres gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you're in trouble
Everybody knows what youve been through
From the bloody cross on top of calvary
To the beach of malibu
Everybody knows it's coming apart
Take one last look at this sacred heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows

When I first heard this, I wasn't quite sure what to think.  But having digested it somewhat, I think it's actually rather terrific.  It takes a rather dated and tired song, and allows us to see it a-new.  And it reminds us of just how powerful a lyricist Paul Simon is.  Not a bad tribute coming from a wordsmith like Leonard Cohen.

I was fairly busy this week with deadlines.  And a couple of times, I drove into work at 5:30 AM.  I was listening to this in the car - and there is something exquisite and soothing about hearing this at daybreak.

I now have a car adaptor for my Ipod, and it's been a godsend (the hard wire version, not the crappy radio transmitters which really suck in a big city like L.A. where all the frequencies are taken - often manifoldly).  I'm listening to podcasts galore...

I've always liked Leonard Cohen. Being a fellow Montrealer, for a long time I liked him just "because". Then when I started expanding my music taste in my teens, I'd be listening to Jeff Buckley and notice that the song had been written by none other than Mr. Cohen. Then in my last year of high school, I remember a teacher asking us to write a short essay on the following question: "Is Margaret Atwood Canada's greatest writer". No offence to Atwood, but I've never liked her prose, especially not in poetry (though I do enjoy Alias Grace)... so I argued that she wasn't, even though I personally had a difficult time finding an alternative. I suggested both Roch Carrier and Mordecai Richler, because I felt that their work represented a far more vast representation of the "Canadian experience". Looking back, I think selfishly, I clung to them as compatriots who shared my experience. Though Carrier was not born in Montreal, his writing on the lives of the Quebecois always felt more at home than anything that Atwood had written. There was also a sort of sentimental attachment to his children's story, The Hockey Sweater, that was a staple for most Canadian childhoods, mine included. I'm also sure, Richler's own children's books played a big part in my appreciation for his work. I never suggested Cohen, though, I think if I were to go back, he would be my choice, no questions asked.

Earlier this year, I started listening to his music. I got my hands on his entire discography, and almost listened to it album cover to album cover. I was simply blown away, beyond a simple reflection of the so-called "Canadian experience", which is still elusive as Canadians don't seem to agree on who they are, it was a profound exploration of human relationships. With his songs he transcends any kind of nationalistic pride, or attainability. They simply exist, an often mournful cry for companionship and understanding, with brief, but full portraits of happiness and love. Though there are a few songs I'm not particularly fond of, every single album has at least a handful of songs that are able to touch or excite me in some way.

Though, it changes on almost a day to day basis, today I've settled upon "New Skin for the Old Ceremony", as my favourite of his albums. There are personal reasons involved, as several of these songs remind me of people I care about, but also have served as inspiration for some of my recent work that I'm proud of (a rare feat indeed). Two songs in particular that never fail to move me are "Take this Longing" and "I Tried to Leave You". Both are bittersweet, the first about an encounter between two lovers, possibly for the last time. While the other, about someone who can't seem to leave, the reasoning is almost painfully obvious, but I don't think love is ever obvious, which makes it so tragic. His songs all seem to have a natural appreciation and I'd even say, understanding, of women. Though most of his work seems to be about the struggle of human interaction, he has a unique sense of the individual. Even when a character or person seems elusive, there is always a marvel or magic to them, that reminds me of life in a wonderful way. I know my mother doesn't really like Cohen because she finds his work depressing and, she is even known to say "Listening to him is enough to drive anyone to suicide". Though I can't deny the aching heartbreak and confusion that seems to pervade his work, something about it is calming and hopeful. I think in a lot of his work, even what we understand as "simple" emotions like happiness or sadness is complicated by unease and insecurity, and I relate to that in a way that makes me feel a lot better about the world around me.

This entry, more than anything else, was spurred by my reading of his novel "Beautiful Losers". I'm almost finished, and it's been a very long time, if not a lifetime since I've been so excited and moved by a novel. Experimental and raw, it is still very reflective and calculated. For a moment it reminds me of the work of the beat poets, especially Kerouac's On the Road, but subdued and more introspective. It's an exploration of relationships and interaction, history and the self. It typifies Canadian literature, without being obvious or clear. It's a search for identity, and warmth. The protagonist working to survive each day, his best friend F living a life too big for any man is crushed by his own spirit and the unnamed narrator's wife, who is doomed from the onset, unable to connect with a world that has already cut her short. Wildly explorative, sensual and experimental, the book is one of those rare pieces of art that seems to hit a stride of consciousness that replicates the logic of thoughts and dreams. It's just free. Assuming I like it as much once I finish it (just a few more pages to go!), it might very well be my favourite novel.

That's all I have to say about Leonard Cohen for now, I also just want to mention another Canadian song writing great I've been listening to a lot lately, Gordon Lightfoot. Take a listen.

This weeks 405 Debate is another 'Who's version is better?' affair. This time its a four way wrestling match to see who's version of 'Hallelujah' is the best!

Take a listen below and give us your opinion!

Leonard Cohen (Original Version)

[audio http://captainsdead.com/weedking/cohen/2/06%20Hallelujah.mp3]

Jeff Buckley

[audio http://broadcasterhouse.com/carrotrope/buckley/10%20Hallelujah.mp3]

Beirut

[audio http://www.whokilledthemixtape.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/beirut-hallelujah-leonard-cohen-cover.mp3]

Rufus Wainwright

[audio http://www.anyones-guess.com/listenhere/rufushallelujah.mp3]

Let the debate begin!

a reference to Ian Dury's great song.  I really liked that man.

artists.letssingit.com/ian-dury-and-the-blockheads-reasons-to-be-cheerful- zxslkpc

So.  these thoughts are so significant that I am going to stick this post to the front page and see what happens.  Hold the front page.  Hold it tight.

(Great line of Cohen's - "she's a hundred but she's wearing something tight".  From "Closing Time")

So do you get how this stream of consciousness thing works now?  Don't ask for a goal as a refusal often offends.

so, it seems to me that we are going through some really significant stuff - as a culture and a society - and I offer these thoughts for anyone who chooses to pick them up and run with them.  Or chew them over.  Even if you spit them out.  But first...

Did you look at this and think, I don't have time for long blog postings?  Because there's the rub.  Our time is being stolen from us and wasted in trivialities.  There's all kinds of theft going on - and the theft of time is much more important than the theft of money.

"Lost!  One golden hour.  Set with sixty diamond minutes.  No reward is offered - for it is gone forever".

books.google.com/books?isbn=0719033977...

I hate the Victorians, and this shows a capitalist approach to time.  Actually, you can go back in time - even by reading this blog you are reversing time because I wrote it forwards but you read it backwards.

An exploitation is going on in the area of work and consumption which is equivalent to the Industrial Revolution, only it is taking place on a different level.  It is happening to all my friends and most of my family.  Mark and I have opted out, which means we have no money (no mortgage, no car, no holidays abroad, etc).  I don't ask for sympathy, nor am I saying these things in any spirit of superiority.  I just want to say, it's possible.

What's happening is this: people are being sucked into a cycle of work and despair.  In order to pay rent or mortgage, you have to work.  And work is becoming the arena of many kinds of mental and emotional torture.  Time is being stolen in trivialities while truly important work goes undone.  Example from my own life: the proliferation of unnecessary paperwork, health and safety regulations etc which meant that the teaching of true yoga became impossible.  I left.

Actually, I am wondering whether this has been a cycle for a long time.  According to Orwell's "Coming up for Air",

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coming_Up_for_Air

it was just as bad before the war.  This book can be summed up in Morrisay's phrase, "I was looking for  a job and then I found a job.  And heaven knows I'm miserable now".

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcANDk_Q4Ho

Orwell always was a miserable git.

This is hell.  But there is a way out.  And the way out is this:

Connect with your deepest reality.  Ask the question: what is the way out of this for me?  Ask it now.  Keep asking.  Ask it in the traffic jam, on the tube, waiting for the Green Cross Code.  Ask it in your now non-existent coffee break, ask it of the little white hourglass while you wait for the web page to load, ask it between the razor and your face (or armpits), between the school run and the university, between the dentist and the toothache, between the cornflakes and the soap flakes.  Love, as Leonard says, calls you by your name.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIdp-Hf3IRc

Answer.