Monday, August 14, 2006

Girl, Put Your Records On.

I love music so much, and sometimes I forget just how much of a hold it can have over me. This weekend was dictated by wonderful music discoveries, re-awakenings, and moments of pure joy.

On Friday after seeing Kimmy Gatewood's The Breakup Show at the PIT, I retired to the awful Triple Crown. But the weather was so amazing, and the large group we were with sat outside on the patio and enjoyed it while listening to the putrid sounds coming from the subpar jukebox. That is, until "The Logical Song" by Supertramp came on, and I almost knocked over my High Life due to punching my fist into the air and yanking it back down in total delight, exclaiming, "I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG!!!" Made an already lovely night of visits with friends that much more lovely. That, and the turd stories Altman and I were exchanging, thereby greatly deterring the Irish barkeep from his coke-fuled pick up attempts.

Saturday, I was waiting tables and noted during a lull that a crate of records had been dumped on the corner. Since it was in Red Hook, I dispatched my lovely bus boy Chris to fetch them and we drank Boylan's Black Cherry soda and thumbed thru all the vinyl. As I predicted due to neighborhood, these were no ordinary records, they were clearly a DJ's cast offs- I nabbed Whoudini, The Who's Quadrophenia, some Teena Marie and a bunch of fucking gems I am in shock I got my hands on. Just too good to be true. I went next door after my shift and treated myself to a manicure/pedicure (complete with a daisy, my first foray into nail art), and the radio station they had on in the salon played all sorts of retro soul, including a personal fave, "The Second Time Around" by Shalamar. Then, I got taken out to a belated birthday dinner at my favorite Peruvian place on Smith, Coco Roco, and after shoveling squid ink infused paella into my mouth, I got drunk off a single very strong mojito and ended the night at nearby SAMPLE, drinking homemade strawberry infused vodka with a splash of lemonade, then just multiple vodka lemonades, then, and this is when there was trouble, I was presented with a shot of fresh peach juice & peach schnapps and a slender flume of Vevue Cliquot Champagne. Oh, oh dear. I may have tripped and almost knocked over a stack of cookbooks and ripped a world map down off the bar wall in the process. It was a grand fucking night, I had no idea I'd end up so smashed for free as it was not in the cards, and it couldn't have been nicer as the weather was, again, idyllic. And then- as if magically- SUPERTRAMP CAME ON! This time it was "Goodbye, Stranger" (lots of stuff from Breakfast in America this weekend). I holwed in glee. Ben, ex BF and dear pal, told me to simmer down as he sipped his champagne. It did no good. Then we staggered home and had some sort of slap fight out front of my place while Porter was trying to sleep above us. I am nothing if not totally inconsiderate.

And today, after getting to work with our pal Pat Stago on a film project, Sara and I were treated to a grand supper at Calexico in Park Slope, and then headed off home after a pitstop at the all new Beauty Bar Sunday nite comedy show. I came home and was fucking off on the computer and somehow, discovered a little song by this gorgeous British songbird, Corrine Bailey Rae. It's called "Put Your Records On" and honest to god, I listened to it just once and fell in love with it. It made me so fucking happy, blissfully happy. It's so good, so rich, so joyful- the best of what neo-soul has to offer. Plus, a cowbell- thank you VERY much. I put it on at top volume and danced to it, it made me so wiggly and overjoyed. It frightened Nigel, and, I'm sure, Porter (who was luckily in his own room cartooning). I got the whole album and I know this is going to just make my life for the next couple of weeks. So excited about that, I almost want to cry.

A few months ago, I bitterly changed my anthem from "Conceited" by Remy Ma to "Return of the Mack" by Mark Morrison. But that has changed, I've changed, and now it goes a little something like this: Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite songs, you go ahead let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams, just go ahead let your hair down. You're gonna find yourself someway, somehow.


saraisloco said...

A good song. But it's no Genesis' "Something Happened on the Way To Heaven".

matt said...

Is "turs stories" supposed to read turd stories?

I really want to make a Charlie Rose style show where the topic is always turd stories.

Brandy For Sale. said...

How I managed to hijack the entire 8 person dinner conversation from Joe Simpson's creepy Texas circuit-preaching condemnations ala excerpts from Genesis to making mention of a limp 80's power pop "hit" baffles me. But I did. And Sara saw it all go down.