Month: January 2018

I hear music.

For ten years running now, almost every time I’m ramping up to finish work on something after a period of relative inactivity or uncertainty, a big bad mega cold comes out of nowhere and knocks me out for a good week or two. I should have known another one was on the way.

It hasn’t been all bad. For one thing, between coughing fits I found that video up there. I think it’s fifteen minutes of your life well spent. Count Basie was the coolest, and there will never be another Judy Garland. Her take on “A Cottage for Sale” at the end of that block of music has to be the song’s definitive treatment. Frank Sinatra does a masterful job singing it on his great album No One Cares, but Judy takes it somewhere even deeper. You sense she feels those words because she’s lived them.

If I could stop coughing and sneezing all the time, I’d sing some things too. Soon, hopefully.

Replace yourself, don’t erase yourself.

For my first semi-noble deed of 2018, I snuck into the CJAM music library — okay, so Brady saw me, but I still say I was as stealthy as a stick of celery — and swapped out some of my CDs for quieter, better-sounding remastered versions. Almost everything I’ve done from OH YOU THIS forward was present and accounted for. The only things missing were CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN and the MISFITS compilation. I’m not sure if someone stole those (again) or if they just got misplaced. Even without them, there are still a good fifteen albums on the shelf that have my name on the spine.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “A bunch of radio DJs discovering one specific artist’s albums are suddenly a little quieter without any explanation, but otherwise unaltered…that’s a great premise for the next Hollywood blockbuster horror film.”

You could call it The Remastered. It almost sells itself!