![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shermaramaMost of the people I converse with on the net these days know me to some extent already, and are aware that, e.g., I think Dido ought to be illegal. This is not the case over on myspace, where of course I've just got this profile with me dressed up as She-Hulk and a deliberately vague bit about what music I like so that all sorts of bands send me friend requests. This is working in an unusual way at the minute, since a Teflon-pop singer-songwriter trying to be the next Natalie Imbruglia or some such sent me a friend request and said she was possibly looking for a female drummer. My reply was probably the most insulting thing I've ever sent to a stranger, but it seems to have sparked off a conversation about different approaches to music. S'cool.
Meanwhile I am finally exorcising Whitewater, and all the particularly spoony bits of Welcome To Sky Valley. I was having an argument with Jon at the weekend about Brant Bjork, whose recent drumming efforts utterly fail to interest me, and the reason that's a shame is because of the detail and feel on this. All the best songs are long jams with great washes of ride and lots of long-running toms and these are ideally done. Everything recent has seen Brant Bjork trying to do snappy vaguely retro pop with super-crisp drums and that just goes straight past, it doesn't feel alive.
Mainly I'm listening to this to let go after a long and busy week, though. Someday, I can't imagine the circumstance to bring this about, there will be a quiet place, strong sun, dusty ground, nothing else but a stereo blasting this out, and I'll dance to Whitewater in the sun and send the dust flying. I can't do that in an overcrowded flat in Brighton in the wee small hours, but I can shut my eyes and imagine it.
Meanwhile I am finally exorcising Whitewater, and all the particularly spoony bits of Welcome To Sky Valley. I was having an argument with Jon at the weekend about Brant Bjork, whose recent drumming efforts utterly fail to interest me, and the reason that's a shame is because of the detail and feel on this. All the best songs are long jams with great washes of ride and lots of long-running toms and these are ideally done. Everything recent has seen Brant Bjork trying to do snappy vaguely retro pop with super-crisp drums and that just goes straight past, it doesn't feel alive.
Mainly I'm listening to this to let go after a long and busy week, though. Someday, I can't imagine the circumstance to bring this about, there will be a quiet place, strong sun, dusty ground, nothing else but a stereo blasting this out, and I'll dance to Whitewater in the sun and send the dust flying. I can't do that in an overcrowded flat in Brighton in the wee small hours, but I can shut my eyes and imagine it.