Have you ever had one of those mornings where you're sent a track made by some nice, twee-sounding band from San Francisco, and you think to yourself, goodness, well, it's Sunday, I just polished off an entire 750ml bottle of French cider the night before while making a tilapia and potatoes dinner while also describing the process of making that dinner to someone over email and also photographing the lighting schema of my apartment with a digital camera that's hearing its death knell with every little click, and now I've woken up, opened up Ulysses to page 344 (corrected text) as well as accompanying study guides by not one but two Joyce scholars from different eras, and maybe this chapter is an astounding parody of the gestation/development of English prose or maybe it isn't but maybe in any event can pastiche have more value-laden under/overtones despite what Jameson suggests, and christ, it's all a bit much at 9am on a Sunday morning, so maybe it wouldn't hurt to listen to the nice twee band, even though I realise that all of my waxing rhapsodic about that sort of stuff on Friday maybe gives people the wrong impression of me, but fine, let's listen to the Fairways anyway?
No? Haven't had that sort of Sunday morning? Hmm.
Just so we're clear then: I am not as twee, or cute/sy, or barrette-wearing, as my recent musical selections might suggest. I consume copious amounts of whiskey and cider when no one is looking, I woke up this morning with various Eagleton, Sontag, Benjamin, and Joyce texts strewn beside me on the bed, I follow more sports than the typical PA reader, and I most certainly do not use emoticons without irony. I would normally balk at a song with the lyrics "holding hands with the one I love / she wears mittens, I wear gloves," but I'm feeling like the advent of 2008 and/or my 34th year has somehow (only temporarily, I hope) removed the sarcasm wiring from my head. It's as if the gods looked down from their perch and thought, well, that HT, she certainly had a miserable 2007, didn't she? Well let's just make things easier for her now. Hey you over there, with the scarf and the Glaswegian accent -- why don't you put together the soundtrack. She won't know what hit her.
Seriously, I don't know what's up with me lately, because I'm *really* digging this song, which was originally performed by the band Edson, but is covered here by the SF-based band The Fairways. I mean, dear god, there's even cute hand claps.
The Fairways, Sunday, Lovely Sunday
And no, please do not start asking me what all of this twee-love means for my relationship to the quirk. All of this happy/giddy whathaveyou could prove disastrous for my reputation here.
[Thanks to JB for sending the track over this morning and getting this whole embarrassing ball rolling.]
You're ADDICTED to CIDER. YOU NEED HELP. What happened to you?!?
Posted by: md | January 20, 2008 at 02:00 PM