I plugged in at work and Man on Fire started playing and before the song was done, my love was professed all over Twitter. I Don’t Wanna Pray is what sealed the deal for me. It’s got the perfect mix of bluegrassy folk and anthemy lyrics that I love. It started playing and I looked up the band’s concert line-up because I can easily imagine attending an outdoor show and dancing around to this song across some crowded lawn.
At that same imagined show, when Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes starts to play Dear Believer, I’d have to lie down (or at least lean back into Wonder Boy) and shut my eyes while rocking back and forth into a happy delirium. Have I established yet that this album has me a smitten kitten? I can go on! Child hails to slow-jam dirty 60s rock
Here is not 100% perfect, but it’s such a welcome addition to my summer soundtrack! Love.
There’s been a lot of drama in my household around cameras lately that I’d rather not go into but I will say it resulted in an upgrade for me so you’ll be seeing a lot of fantabulous photography in the future. During the process, I had to purchase some new memory cards for my camera. New cameras mean more megapixels and more megapixels mean bigger file sizes. Below is a snapshot of my newest memory card and my oldest.
The yesterday on Woot I had the option to buy a 64 gig card. (I didn’t.) My how times have changed.
I like watching high school TV shows and movies about rebels. I love identifying with rebellious characters because my high school experiences included no rebellion. Once I stayed out past midnight without asking my parents. And that was like, whoa. The girls I was friends with at my all girls high school … we were nice girls. We were a little boring. One girl, the most “anti-establishment(big quotes around that) didn’t shave her legs for a year and for a while dyed her red hair blue.
In an effort to pull me to the dark side, or maybe just to save me from the crap music I was listening to, this girls gave me two mix tapes. They were full of nothing but Beastie Boys and I was in love. I listened to License to Ill every. single. day. on the way to high school. I played the tapes for kids when I was babysitting. (Potentially a questionably choice.)
Nowadays, I flirt with membership in the hipster, indie rock crowd, staying safely on the outskirts but wholly able to hold my own in music conversations. I attribute that to when I was 16, sitting in my 1985 Honda Civic hatchback listening to Paul’s Boutique. (Wonder Boy has had a great deal of influence on my music tastes in more recent years.)
Sitting in my doctor’s office waiting room today, I saw on my phone a message about the death of Adam ‘MCA’ Yauch. I wasn’t sure what to do with the informaton … how to process it. On my way home, a local radio station announced the death and then played No Sleep till Brooklyn and Sabotage. I did the only acceptable thing. I rolled down my windows and turned up the volume, just like 16-year-old me would have done.
I am grateful for the music MCA helped create and which I will enjoy for many, many more years to come. And thank you for getting me out of a phase that involved way too much bubblegum pop.
