Thursday, September 30
i wrote this at 4 in the morning
Lately I've been listening again: To the radio, where the lefties, eclectics, and obsessives at KZUM complement the unreliable streaks of indie genius at KRNU and now-rare periods of quality at the River just well enough that I never even try climbing out of the low 90s on FM. To bargain bin CDs and ex-Dispatch member projects. To reggae and blues, a little hip-hop and some funk. To the traffic on Superior Street, and my roomie Jon's Essential Neil Diamond.
This is a slow recovery of my senses; somewhere in the last few months I lost music, and I'm only now realizing how badly I need it back, how much of it I still want to find. Somewhere in there Modest Mouse blew up, the Beta Band decided to call it quits, Wilco came out with an album that's worth listening to but doesn't say the things for me that Yankee Hotel Foxtrot seemed like it was saying and really makes me wish they'd rock out more, and Dispatch threw a free farewell show in Boston and I didn't go even as I was realizing that there is no band I am ever likely to love more.
Anyway, I got Rilo Kiley's latest a little while ago, when I had some money left from a rare paycheck. It's a pretty good album. I think it's maybe not quite as good as their last two, but I could wind up feeling differently. They came to Lincoln yesterday, and did an in-store set at the Homer's on 61st & O. They were late, per the unwritten rules for bands playing free sets in music stores, so I stood and talked to this kid who lived a couple miles down the road from me growing up.
We said the usual things about trying to make a living doing music or writing. I was thinking about this bumper sticker I saw at Winfield that said "real musicians have day jobs", about how I haven't picked up a guitar in a month, and how Molly wants an accordion in order to appease the shade of her great-grandfather.