LONDON IS DEAD! LONDON IS DEAD! LONDON IS DEAD!

This person was right by me! I wonder if they remember the skinny kid pressed against the rail separating the floor from the seats - he had FRANKLY in marker on his shirtless, skinny chest, MR. SHANKLY on his back. We gave him a tattered gladiola tossed our way from the stage.

Gillian Welch, Time (The Revelator)
Kim Richey, Glimmer
Emmylou Harris, Pieces of the Sky
Ryan Adams, Heartbreaker
Morrissey, Bona Drag and Your Arsenal

Wow, it's been a while since I've listened to Pieces of the Sky. Emmylou Harris wears "For No One" like a stolen raincoat in a downpour.

Media: The vinyl-obsessed, Fucked Up, And Heartless Bastards in this week's Record Crate blog for 225.

Transcribing. Evidently, I start every interview with "uh... OK!" like I just woke up to suddenly register my subject on the other end of the conversation.


We all need to be reminded of how good "To Be Young (Is To Be Sad, Is To Be High)" is.

I nearly deafened myself listening to tinny-ass Your Arsenal twice in a row, tinnier-assed by some knock-off earbuds on the downward slide, but so glorious. Mouthed every word in the bus. I saw Morrissey on this tour in the ruins of the State Palace Theatre and he was gladiola-smashing, Fat Elvis, rock ogre mesmerizing. It was all I could do to not tweet every line of "Glamourous Glue" in all-caps, @JennyHolzer style. WHERE IS THE MAN YOU RESPECT? AND WHERE IS THE WOMAN YOU LOVE? and LONDON IS DEAD! LONDON IS DEAD! LONDON IS DEAD!