may • june

for the dead man in seat 23-A, july 04

The Sounds of Science – The Beastie Boys, Paul’s Boutique
The debacle of To The Five Boroughs sends you back to when the Beasties weren’t just good, they felt vital. Be amazed by how many of the words you still remember. Time for money and girls covered with honey. Remember Johnny and Vince and Smitty shouting out Egg Man for no discernable reason in the middle of a party, your first visit to the flophouse. Go back in time, stop yourself. John writes, back from god knows and in-between here and india the night before you leave.

track 2 – Thee Michelle Gunn Elephant, Sabrina Heaven
Man, I don’t know what that guy’s saying, but he sure as hell means it. Maiko offers to translate; he’s saying something like “I touched the sun.” You tell her about the mixtape phrenology project and the two of you talk about music. She’s sniffing around to determine if you’re one of those Yellow Fever dudes, probably. You convince her otherwise, she gives you GO! GO! 7188. Then think back to Tokyo, some soba shop. You, Maiko, and Mateus, three different kids from three different fucking worlds, sway in time to Exit Music by Radiohead, trying to keep your eyes open an hour before you’re supposed to speak before a massive crowd of Japanese designers and art freaks. Everyone loved OK Computer at one point, and the three of you all seemed to be going through the same thing when you loved it most. The world is very very tiny. It doesn’t seem any bigger than the soba shop some times.

Family Business – Kanye West, College Drop Out
Xtop’s fault. You go fishing on 4th of July, he’s playing DJ with the iPod and hits this one as you roll up to the bait shop. The-ee-lec-tric-SLI-din’-grammmmaw lodges in your head for the rest of the month, honestly.

Oh, wait, you catch a fish. That was pretty cool.

Blue Moon – Elvis Presley, Elvis At Sun
Costco has a nice slip-covered set of the Guralnick Elvis biographies for dirt cheap, so you pick ‘em up. You’ll read 70 pages on the plane, just where it starts happening, just where it starts getting good, then not touch it again for a while. Blue Moon, this version of it, anyway, is, like, the sexiest song ever written. It sounds best through bad speakers on an AM station just out of reach. You listen to a bunch of different records inter-spliced with all the tracks from The Conet Project, wishing there was a way you could mix the two together simultaneously.

In fact, The Conet Project should probably rate on this list. Because you’ve listened to it more than anything else lately. It tends to creep people out when you don’t have headphones on. Good. That and cLOUDDEAD and RJD2 and some other odds and ends steep in your head like teabags all month long but nothing sticks. Too busy. Too tired.

Coin Operated Boy – The Dresden Dolls, The Dresden Dolls
You can’t shake thinking you’ve been suckered by another Decemberists when you buy the disc, but you buy it anyway and listen to a handful of tracks. Weimar glam punk boogie, drums and piano, plank crash plankaplanka plank.

A New England – Billy Bragg, Back to Basics
Dicking around with CleverCactus, you take the record from Han. Warren sent you this track a while back, and a handful of others. You’d never heard Billy Bragg sing with an accent—Warren has a heart attack when you tell him. Oi don’t wanna change th’ wurrrld, Oim jes looking fah a new eeenglan…

35 In The Shade – A.C. Newman, The Slow Wonder
Man, this whole record just digs in like a fucking tick.

Jimmy Jazz - The Clash, London Calling
After Laurenn headbutts, gutpunches, and then stabs a dude nine times who calls himself “Jimmy Jazz” for throwing firecrackers and Chinese throwing stars at her little sister, this track, by far the weakest on London Calling rattles through your head the last couple days of the San Diego convention whenever the story is half-told.

The Ocean - Led Zeppelin, Houses of the Holy
Talking to Matt in NYC, the night before the pitch. He asks about music used, you shoot back that you used Stairway to Heaven exclusively. Laugh. This leads into you rambling into your tea about doing Zep covers in your high school band, The Ocean being the biggest bitch of ‘em to do well. Well, well enough. It was a high school band, and you were doing Zep covers. That’s only gonna be so good, you know? So that means it was pretty bad. Still. Good song. Stupid you.

Gun Street Girl - Tom Waits, Rain Dogs
Pops in your head on the flight home between half-read sentences and half-written to do lists. You’ll get home and sleep fourteen hours. Wake up, nap more, then go down for twelve more. Gun street. Rain street? Something. Weird crime thrillers. Oh! John, John, he's long gone. There you go. And it's from the burlesque book you got Kel. There's a burlesque outfit somewhere called The Gun Street Girls. That planted it, and Johnny made it stick.

I’m Waiting For The Man - The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground & Nico
Hey white boy, what you doin’ uptown?