Saturday, April 4, 2009

The death of quick sizzle

A. and I moved to the North Shore last week—we're the proud owners of a shiny new condo! (Actually it's a converted house built in the thirties, but you get the idea.) We're really happy here and are looking forward to being adults. Since we are now a short walk to the beach (well, I don't suspect it's much of a beach beach where you go to get all bronzy, but it should be a nice stretch of sand to clear one's head, enjoy a fantastic view of Boston and snicker at ugly Lynn residents; and I don't like the sun anyway), I figure the late Spring and Summer months offer the best time to become acquainted with and take in the local offerings. And maybe become a townie.

Anyway, the point of this post is to really rechristen the blog. I started out figuring I'd write mostly about music, and I have here and there, but too often I've posted only a sentence or two commenting on something that, for the most part, wasn't worth the effort. Even worse, sometimes I just copied and pasted a Bill Belichick quote I fancied, with no context whatsoever. Little did I know I could have turned that idea into Twitter and been done with it. (I almost made a remark about raking in millions by creating Twitter but it sure seems like one of those enterprises that earns no revenue at all.)

Therefore, I promise to knock it off with the lazy little posts about whozits and whats-his-nose and the like, once labeled "quick sizzle." From now on I'll write only in-depth, well considered, fully baked art. Anything I'm compelled to relate in few words for the sake of it—like all those posts about how I never post anything, or my long-ignored rule that required me to post at least once a month—isn't worth relating at all. Who needs it? I've deleted most of that old shit, including a handful of peculiar and uninteresting Cambridge tales, even as I remain proud of my "Hating a movie in three words" post that read "Screw you, Prada!" Gold, Jerry.

I wish the blog to be reborn with more music writing in the coming weeks and months. On the agenda are a recap of the new (to me) music I've gotten into since my last such list (over two years ago!); the long-promised review of one of my old college mixtapes (probably from 1996 since I was making one every other week around then); and, for no real reason other than my inability to shut up about things I dislike, an unabashed assault on Nico's The Marble Index.

Last thing (and call this the final "quick sizzle" entry if you'd like, since it's the type of thing what earned the label): I was straightening up our storage area in the basement, sweeping and organizing (and discovering that attaching a dryer hose is deceptively frustrating), and my hands were getting really dirty. So the old Lava jingle popped in my head: "I don't need no Lava soap, nope. Ladies' hands don't get that dirty. I don't need no Lava soap." Ladies' hands? How did they get away with that?

Also, the real last thing: I was listening to classic-rock radio for like six hours down there and I heard a live version of "The Joker" rearranged as a reggae song. It was like chocolate and peanut butter, only if the chocolate were anal rape and the peanut butter were AIDS.