Thank God Bruce threw out the fiddles from "The Seeger Sessions" and picked up his guitar. You know that when Bruce has both Steve Van Zandt's and Nils Lofgren's guitars backing him, that all is well in the state of Rock and Roll. I'm sure SS was a good album, but I like my Bruce the way I like my men. Straight and strong.
My favorite song on his new album, "Magic," is "Living in the Future," which starts off like "Tenth Avenue Freeze-out" but is way hornier and tinged with subtle jabs about what W & Company has done to the country.
It's rare I get the chance to mix two things I love to do, get syrupy over Bruce and bash W, at the same time. But since Bruce has tackled the effects of this administration on our country in "Magic," I get to write not only about how he hates W, too, but at the same time I get to gush like a school girl over him. Did you see his muscles on that 60 Minutes interview? Did I just say muscles? I meant, wrinkles. He's got wrinkles and muscles. He's nearly sixty and he looks good and is sounding even better. He gives hope to all of us forty-somethings worried over aging. Maybe we’ll just get better like him.
I bought 'Magic" on Tuesday, and have probably heard it a dozen times. The album grows on you with each listen. "Gypsy Biker" is a beautiful song about an Iraq vet coming home in a coffin. Like so many of his songs, it's a short story set to music. "We pulled your cycle out of the garage/And polished up the chrome." Then the theme builds in "Last to Die," as Bruce's anger over Iraq is more palatable here. In "Magic," we see him circle back to "Living in the Future," singing, "This is what will be, this is what will be." Oh he's pissed. Well, so am I and that’s why he continues to be the soundtrack to my life.
"Long Walk Home" is being compared to "My Hometown," except it has more balls. A father speaks to his son, who is about to be shipped out, of sacrifices and "Who we are, what we'll do/And what we won't." I for one, won't let a day go by without listening to "Magic." That is till Bruce puts out another album, hopefully ones without fiddles.
October 07, 2007
October 01, 2007
Magic Time
I’ve always wondered about people who didn’t like Bruce Springsteen. I realize that each person has their own taste, but, I’ve never been able to figure out how I can feel his songs so deeply, and, I’m just one of many people who can say that, while others shrug him off completely as a mainstream rocker, kinda like Bon Jovi. Actually, one girl told me once that he reminded her of Bon Jovi, “but he wasn’t as cute.” I always thought she was kind of dumb, you know, like Miss Teen South Carolina. But not as cute.
For those of us who love Springsteen, what I’m about to say is obvious and cliché. For those who don’t, listen up: he’s more than just some rocker, and if you have spent the last thirty years wondering what the fuss is about, pause Beyonce on your iPod and read this article NY Times. Maybe it will clarify some things. It’s not the best article ever written on Springsteen, but it’s pretty darn good.
Bruce’s new album “Magic” is out this week, and while I have only heard “Radio Nowhere,” I’m looking forward to not just hearing the music, but listening to the lyrics. After all, this is the man who wrote lines like, “For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside, that it ain’t no sin to be glad your alive,” as well as, “roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair . . . the nights busting open and these two lanes can take us anywhere.” If those lyrics don’t touch you in some way, then maybe you’ve never longed for something--other than Prada. Okay, to be fair I long for Prada a lot, but there are other things I’ve wanted, too, like the strong desire to bust out of a dusty small town growing up, and see the world. I was the kind of person Bruce wrote songs for, and all these years later, as I’ve grown older, and had a career, and a marriage, and this thing called an adult life, Bruce has somehow managed to continue to provide a soundtrack, like the words from this great middle-age lament:
Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening
To the hours and minutes tickin' away
Yeah, just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin
While it was all just slippin' away.
I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come
Early on, Bruce’s songs inspired me “to take a right at the light and head out straight onto night,” and I did. Last night, I traveled 20 + hours door-to door from my fourth trip to Hong Kong. I’ve seen a lot of the world, not all of it. I’ve tried to live my dreams, writing, a fun career, and again, I was spurred on to do this in part by Springsteen’s music. All these years later, after I’ve first heard “Born to Run,” I’ve realized something. Seeing the world is great, and chasing your dreams is a worthwhile pursuit, but let’s face it, and if you are a Springsteen fan, you know what I mean: nothing beats dancing to a good song by our guy. That’s why he’s The Boss.
For those of us who love Springsteen, what I’m about to say is obvious and cliché. For those who don’t, listen up: he’s more than just some rocker, and if you have spent the last thirty years wondering what the fuss is about, pause Beyonce on your iPod and read this article NY Times. Maybe it will clarify some things. It’s not the best article ever written on Springsteen, but it’s pretty darn good.
Bruce’s new album “Magic” is out this week, and while I have only heard “Radio Nowhere,” I’m looking forward to not just hearing the music, but listening to the lyrics. After all, this is the man who wrote lines like, “For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside, that it ain’t no sin to be glad your alive,” as well as, “roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair . . . the nights busting open and these two lanes can take us anywhere.” If those lyrics don’t touch you in some way, then maybe you’ve never longed for something--other than Prada. Okay, to be fair I long for Prada a lot, but there are other things I’ve wanted, too, like the strong desire to bust out of a dusty small town growing up, and see the world. I was the kind of person Bruce wrote songs for, and all these years later, as I’ve grown older, and had a career, and a marriage, and this thing called an adult life, Bruce has somehow managed to continue to provide a soundtrack, like the words from this great middle-age lament:
Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening
To the hours and minutes tickin' away
Yeah, just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin
While it was all just slippin' away.
I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come
Early on, Bruce’s songs inspired me “to take a right at the light and head out straight onto night,” and I did. Last night, I traveled 20 + hours door-to door from my fourth trip to Hong Kong. I’ve seen a lot of the world, not all of it. I’ve tried to live my dreams, writing, a fun career, and again, I was spurred on to do this in part by Springsteen’s music. All these years later, after I’ve first heard “Born to Run,” I’ve realized something. Seeing the world is great, and chasing your dreams is a worthwhile pursuit, but let’s face it, and if you are a Springsteen fan, you know what I mean: nothing beats dancing to a good song by our guy. That’s why he’s The Boss.
September 21, 2007
Well, she has a good last name.
Seriously, who is Amy Wineshoue? I’m fairly old, so I don’t know this kind of pop-culture stuff.
All I know is that everyone is up in arms over young girls like her who are drunk, out-of-control, and making a mess of their lives. The media says they need rehab, I say they need to call me so we can have a pajama party. I'll bring my silver flask filled with Absolute.
Here is what Salon wrote recently about Miss Amy Winehouse and ladies like her.
“According to a report by British organization Women in Journalism, teenage girls find "encouragement" in "the soap opera-style lives of glamorous women," even if those women are falling over drunk and look like hell [stop talking about me that way, be-atch!].
Sure, teens (of both genders) are attracted to images of celebrities supposedly living it up [Lablogda note: teens, hell! Middle-age broads like me want to live it up more]. That doesn't mean they want to replicate every aspect of their behavior. Why pin it on Winehouse? She's far from the only celebrity disaster [to the novice, this is media code for, “hello Britney. Is that a gun in your belly or are you just happy to see me?] and hers is a pretty clear-cut cautionary tale. It's hard to believe that teens see her stumbling around with blood on her satin ballet flats and scratches all over her face and think, That should be me! [Well, that might be me, so screw you.]
Teenagers are wrestling with all kinds of influences, but no one of these things is forcing them to become binge drinkers or drug addicts. In a recent study, the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse cites predictable factors like low self-esteem, peer pressure and concerns about weight and appearance as the top motivations for girls to drink [as well as middle-age women]. That these things aren't sensational doesn't make them any less troubling.”
Okay, new rule: young Hollywood types need to sober up a tad (this isn't the seventies), but, at the same time, the media needs to move on and get on to more serious things than Britney’s expanding waist line (she had two kids, what do you want?). There are men, women and children dying daily in Iraq. Iran is scary because it’s Iran, and there is a short guy ruling N. Korea, and if history has taught us anything, it’s that short dudes are to be feared because THEY ARE FREAKED OUT ABOUT BEING SHORT.
So media, let the drunk gals be. Girls just want to have fun, then turn to rehab so that they can write their memoir and be the female James Frey (minus the fiction). We have a cock-eyed cowboy running our country, and as my grandpa would say, we are going to hell in a hand-basket. For God’s sakes, leave Amy Winehouse alone, and for God’s sakes, someone tell me who the hell she is.
Long live Lindsey.
All I know is that everyone is up in arms over young girls like her who are drunk, out-of-control, and making a mess of their lives. The media says they need rehab, I say they need to call me so we can have a pajama party. I'll bring my silver flask filled with Absolute.
Here is what Salon wrote recently about Miss Amy Winehouse and ladies like her.
“According to a report by British organization Women in Journalism, teenage girls find "encouragement" in "the soap opera-style lives of glamorous women," even if those women are falling over drunk and look like hell [stop talking about me that way, be-atch!].
Sure, teens (of both genders) are attracted to images of celebrities supposedly living it up [Lablogda note: teens, hell! Middle-age broads like me want to live it up more]. That doesn't mean they want to replicate every aspect of their behavior. Why pin it on Winehouse? She's far from the only celebrity disaster [to the novice, this is media code for, “hello Britney. Is that a gun in your belly or are you just happy to see me?] and hers is a pretty clear-cut cautionary tale. It's hard to believe that teens see her stumbling around with blood on her satin ballet flats and scratches all over her face and think, That should be me! [Well, that might be me, so screw you.]
Teenagers are wrestling with all kinds of influences, but no one of these things is forcing them to become binge drinkers or drug addicts. In a recent study, the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse cites predictable factors like low self-esteem, peer pressure and concerns about weight and appearance as the top motivations for girls to drink [as well as middle-age women]. That these things aren't sensational doesn't make them any less troubling.”
Okay, new rule: young Hollywood types need to sober up a tad (this isn't the seventies), but, at the same time, the media needs to move on and get on to more serious things than Britney’s expanding waist line (she had two kids, what do you want?). There are men, women and children dying daily in Iraq. Iran is scary because it’s Iran, and there is a short guy ruling N. Korea, and if history has taught us anything, it’s that short dudes are to be feared because THEY ARE FREAKED OUT ABOUT BEING SHORT.
So media, let the drunk gals be. Girls just want to have fun, then turn to rehab so that they can write their memoir and be the female James Frey (minus the fiction). We have a cock-eyed cowboy running our country, and as my grandpa would say, we are going to hell in a hand-basket. For God’s sakes, leave Amy Winehouse alone, and for God’s sakes, someone tell me who the hell she is.
Long live Lindsey.
September 07, 2007
Something to Gaffe About
In case you missed this in the news, here's an article from Reuters:
SYDNEY (Reuters) - Even for someone as gaffe-prone as U.S. President George W. Bush, he was in rare form on Friday, confusing APEC with OPEC and transforming Australian troops into Austrians.
Bush's tongue started slipping almost as soon as he started talking at a business forum on the eve of an Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit in Sydney.
"Mr. Prime Minister, thank you for your introduction," he told Prime Minister John Howard. "Thank you for being such a fine host for the OPEC summit."
As the audience of several hundred people erupted in laughter, Bush corrected himself and joked, "He invited me to the OPEC summit next year." Australia has never been a member of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries.
Later in his speech, Bush recounted how Howard had gone to visit "Austrian troops" last year in Iraq. There are, in fact, no Austrian troops there. But Australia has about 1,500 Australian military personnel in and around the country.
Upon finishing his speech, Bush took the wrong way off-stage and, looking slightly perplexed, had to be re-directed by Howard to a centre-stage exit.
But not before a veteran White House correspondent seized the opportunity to ask Bush whether there had been any new message in his speech. Apparently misunderstanding the question, he bristled and asked, "Haven't you been listening to my past speeches?" before turning away.
Bush is no stranger to the occasional faux pas, and often jokes about his habit of mangling the English language.
One of his highest-profile gaffes came in May when, at a welcoming ceremony for Britain's Queen Elizabeth II, he nearly placed her in the 18th century.
Then there was the famous incident at the G8 summit in St. Petersburg in 2006 when Bush, unaware he was on camera, greeted British Prime Minister Tony Blair with the words "Yo Blair."
Bush's sometimes muddled syntax and mispronunciation of words like nuclear ("nukular") have long been fodder for late-night TV comedians. But aides say his folksy style has helped endear him to Middle America.
SYDNEY (Reuters) - Even for someone as gaffe-prone as U.S. President George W. Bush, he was in rare form on Friday, confusing APEC with OPEC and transforming Australian troops into Austrians.
Bush's tongue started slipping almost as soon as he started talking at a business forum on the eve of an Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit in Sydney.
"Mr. Prime Minister, thank you for your introduction," he told Prime Minister John Howard. "Thank you for being such a fine host for the OPEC summit."
As the audience of several hundred people erupted in laughter, Bush corrected himself and joked, "He invited me to the OPEC summit next year." Australia has never been a member of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries.
Later in his speech, Bush recounted how Howard had gone to visit "Austrian troops" last year in Iraq. There are, in fact, no Austrian troops there. But Australia has about 1,500 Australian military personnel in and around the country.
Upon finishing his speech, Bush took the wrong way off-stage and, looking slightly perplexed, had to be re-directed by Howard to a centre-stage exit.
But not before a veteran White House correspondent seized the opportunity to ask Bush whether there had been any new message in his speech. Apparently misunderstanding the question, he bristled and asked, "Haven't you been listening to my past speeches?" before turning away.
Bush is no stranger to the occasional faux pas, and often jokes about his habit of mangling the English language.
One of his highest-profile gaffes came in May when, at a welcoming ceremony for Britain's Queen Elizabeth II, he nearly placed her in the 18th century.
Then there was the famous incident at the G8 summit in St. Petersburg in 2006 when Bush, unaware he was on camera, greeted British Prime Minister Tony Blair with the words "Yo Blair."
Bush's sometimes muddled syntax and mispronunciation of words like nuclear ("nukular") have long been fodder for late-night TV comedians. But aides say his folksy style has helped endear him to Middle America.
September 05, 2007
I Once Knew a Girl Named Katrina
When I was 17, my pal CW and I went with her mom to New Orleans to see the Rolling Stones play. Van Halen was the opening act. The venue? The Superdome. Before the show, we sat in a French Quarter restaurant and ate oyster po-boys and watched a waitress bolt across the floor and lock the door to keep some LSU frat boys from walking out on the bill. Later, we went to the concert, and I met an English journalist named Dave, who was 25, and I French kissed him that night. Then for the next year, we kept up, what in retrospect, was a disturbing pen pal relationship.
What does this have to do with anything? Today is September 5, and to quote the AP, Nola is “ a cesspool of physical ruin, broken lives and neglect.” More than 160,000 of the population, or 40% have left this once fabulous town.
I live in Las Vegas. The worst trash I have ever met lives here. Awful, terrible, soulless people who wouldn’t know their asshole from their fake tits. The best people I ever knew? Well, it wasn’t in New Orleans, but Lord, I knew some great folks there. They have scattered since Katrina. They live in towns like Baton Rouge and Monroe, places that may very well make Vegas look good. I don't live there. All I know? They are not what New Orleans once was.
Blame whomever you want for what happened after Katrina. I mainly blame George W. Bush because he’s so damn easy to hate, but let’s get this straight: if you voted for him, I blame you, too. for this and for Iraq. And if you didn’t vote at all, move to another country. Finland, Iceland, Poleand, wherever. You think the lesser of two evils means voting for no one? You are stupid and you know who you are.
This country, from the pols to the voters who elected them, have never let down one of its own more than it did with Katrina.
So here's my question to those of you responsible: Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
What does this have to do with anything? Today is September 5, and to quote the AP, Nola is “ a cesspool of physical ruin, broken lives and neglect.” More than 160,000 of the population, or 40% have left this once fabulous town.
I live in Las Vegas. The worst trash I have ever met lives here. Awful, terrible, soulless people who wouldn’t know their asshole from their fake tits. The best people I ever knew? Well, it wasn’t in New Orleans, but Lord, I knew some great folks there. They have scattered since Katrina. They live in towns like Baton Rouge and Monroe, places that may very well make Vegas look good. I don't live there. All I know? They are not what New Orleans once was.
Blame whomever you want for what happened after Katrina. I mainly blame George W. Bush because he’s so damn easy to hate, but let’s get this straight: if you voted for him, I blame you, too. for this and for Iraq. And if you didn’t vote at all, move to another country. Finland, Iceland, Poleand, wherever. You think the lesser of two evils means voting for no one? You are stupid and you know who you are.
This country, from the pols to the voters who elected them, have never let down one of its own more than it did with Katrina.
So here's my question to those of you responsible: Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
August 13, 2007
Rove's Dog Days Exit
I don't have time for a lengthy post, so I copied and pasted this from Yahoo News:
By TERENCE HUNT, AP White House Correspondent 6 minutes ago
WASHINGTON - "Karl Rove, President Bush's close friend and chief political strategist, plans to leave the White House at the end of August, joining a lengthening line of senior officials heading for the exits in the final 1 1/2 years of the administration."
The evil genius is leaving, what is a blogger like me to do? As he has faded more into the background, I've noticed my post have become less and less. A large part of that is that I am lazy, but the other part of it is Rove was just so much fun to write about. Love him or hate him, talking heads and spinmeisters everywhere love to use pages from his book as case studies of changing the way America thinks, speaks and vote.
By TERENCE HUNT, AP White House Correspondent 6 minutes ago
WASHINGTON - "Karl Rove, President Bush's close friend and chief political strategist, plans to leave the White House at the end of August, joining a lengthening line of senior officials heading for the exits in the final 1 1/2 years of the administration."
The evil genius is leaving, what is a blogger like me to do? As he has faded more into the background, I've noticed my post have become less and less. A large part of that is that I am lazy, but the other part of it is Rove was just so much fun to write about. Love him or hate him, talking heads and spinmeisters everywhere love to use pages from his book as case studies of changing the way America thinks, speaks and vote.
August 11, 2007
What I lack in skill I make up for in context
I have no idea what the above headline means, but one day, I will write a book with this title. I fell off my South Beach Phase 1 diet last night and had a glass of a yummy pinot noir. Do you know what happens on Phase 1? Your body gets real clean and efficient on the inside, and when you dump a yummy pinot in your gullet, hilarity ensues, just like a bad seventies sitcom. So as I was polishing off my drink, and telling everyone at the bar how much I adored all of them, truly, and that they were all wondrous, truly, even though they were complete strangers, I turned to my husband and said, “what I lack in skill I make up for in context.”
We both understood that I had said something very deep. The problem is, we are too shallow to really figure this one out. What context? The context of my life? The context of other people's lives? The context of the moment?
Does it matter? We were drunk, having fun, and I said something that sounded really good at the time but in retrospect demands a large “huh?”
It got me thinking about how wine is the adult pot. I admit, I miss my college years. You would get high with your pals and you would say something totally ludicrous that seemed so deep and ponderous at the moment, and a bag of Cheetos later you are laughing at yourself, thinking, “Wow. What a dumb f@#k I am.”
I am a complete dumb f@#k when I drink wine. The world is once again innocent and I know no bad people, only friends. There is no stress, no drudgery, no bills. Just the moment, all happy and fuzzy, and at my age, hot flashy. During the week, I’m a mediocre marketing person with a short attention span and a bad memory, but come Friday night, well, what I lack in skill I make up for in context.
We both understood that I had said something very deep. The problem is, we are too shallow to really figure this one out. What context? The context of my life? The context of other people's lives? The context of the moment?
Does it matter? We were drunk, having fun, and I said something that sounded really good at the time but in retrospect demands a large “huh?”
It got me thinking about how wine is the adult pot. I admit, I miss my college years. You would get high with your pals and you would say something totally ludicrous that seemed so deep and ponderous at the moment, and a bag of Cheetos later you are laughing at yourself, thinking, “Wow. What a dumb f@#k I am.”
I am a complete dumb f@#k when I drink wine. The world is once again innocent and I know no bad people, only friends. There is no stress, no drudgery, no bills. Just the moment, all happy and fuzzy, and at my age, hot flashy. During the week, I’m a mediocre marketing person with a short attention span and a bad memory, but come Friday night, well, what I lack in skill I make up for in context.
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