I don't read Twitter posts. I'm still not sure what it means to RT (re-tweet? as in sharing someone else's tweet?) or the whole @ thing that shows up on people's pages (someone else posting on your page?). I understand the attraction and why people obsess over it. Okay, I don't understand why people obsess over it, but yeah, I get it. I mean, I post Facebook updates so I'm not really that far off. And I have a blog. And I send about 455 texts per day, so by no means am I'm claiming to be "above it." That's actually not what I'm saying at all.
I first saw Welch & Rawlings at Boston's Paradise Rock Club in 1995. They played a beautiful opening set reminiscent of The Carter Family and the greatest of pickers and songwriters. As the night neared to a close, they joined Son Volt for a raucous take on Neil Young's "Come on Baby Let's Go Downtown." Welch, along with Rawlings, have gone on to release four records, all of which are either incredible (1996's Revival, 2001's Time (The Revelator)), pretty incredible (2003's Soul Journey) or very good (1998's Hell Among the Yearlings). As her fans have eagerly awaited a new record for now seven years, many are starting to wonder if perhaps she is done making records. As the wait continued, a glimmer hit us with David Rawlings' first record, last year's A Friend of a Friend. Rawlings' record proved that whether released under Gillian's name or his, they just put out stunning music. 
It's been at least two weeks since I've posted anything outside of photos, YouTube links or quick nuggets on here. I used to check the "unique visitors" per day a few times a week; it's been months since I've checked out those nifty graphs. That said, I have no idea if anyone's even stopping by anymore. It's become obvious to me that my time to post on this blog is becoming limited. I do hope that I can pick up the pace in the weeks to come, but at least for the next two weeks or so, posts will likely remain limited.Amazingly, I kept my purchases under $50. As I was looking through the Magnetic Fields section for the Love Songs box, I look to my left and Charlotte Gainsbourg is flipping through the racks. Kinda like that time at the NYC Record Fair when Thurston Moore was nudging me over to get into my section. Well, not like that at all, but records rule.
This story in The Times-Picayune is so moving that it bears repeating. Some may find it odd, but this portrait of Alex, to me, is a life lived honestly and a life worthy of admiration. There is so much focus and value placed on monetary success in our society and Alex didn't seem to care for it. He lived how he wanted to live. He lived how he felt he was meant to live. He didn't need the spotlight. He didn't need people fawning over him. He wanted a normal, simple and comfortable life among the people of New Orleans.
Three hours! Thirty. Seven. Songs. The back-to-back Big Star tribute of "Thank You Friends" and "In the Street" likely would have had me weeping. Alex Chilton's passing has hit me harder than I could have ever imagined. Just something about Big Star. I listened to #1 Record on the drive up 101 last night and it is honestly one of the greatest records ever, ever, ever recorded. The fact that this record was lost in some distribution snafu following release, would be like Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man having been self-published and only made available to a couple folks. 
I was born into a succession of four German Shepherds. As a kid, when I wasn't out playing baseball or basketball or at home watching baseball or basketball, I was often as near to the dogs as possible. German Shepherds, at least the ones we had, are loyal to their owners and everyone else pales. That being the case, all four were basically hooked onto the hip of my stepfather. But sometimes they'd give me some time. I loved those dogs, even Guard, the one who didn't really like me, or anyone for that matter. 
Jay Farrar has an almost endless list of incredible songs. Some are amazing lyrically, some have an Americana beauty that few current artists can touch and some barrel you over like the best of Crazy Horse. With Uncle Tupelo, he penned some of the best songs of the early 90s with "Chickamauga," "Looking for a Way Out," "Postcard," "Steal the Crumbs," and every other song he wrote alongside Jeff Tweedy. 
