she smelled like trees.:
"I haven't written a recommendation in ages, so I thought I'd kick things off by fishing out a personal favorite treat [familiar and beloved to the fogies here, meaty and oddly contemporary-sounding for the k..."
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she smelled like trees.:
"I haven't written a recommendation in ages, so I thought I'd kick things off by fishing out a personal favorite treat [familiar and beloved to the fogies here, meaty and oddly contemporary-sounding for the kids my age]. There was a rumor [which turned out, cruelly, to be just that and nothing more] that Eno was going to be sitting in with David Byrne at his Orpheum show here in Memphis next month. My spirits were lifted and, subsequently, dashed on jagged, rusty scrap metal when my investigation thereof turned up evidence to the contrary. So, in honor of the freakishly amazing concert that won't be [not that a Byrne solo show is anything to shake a stick at], I here encourage you who do know [but especially you who don't know] to bask in the absurd magic of Eno by dredging up a copy of Here Come the Warm Jets and spinning that baby until it melts on the turntable. "Driving Me Backwards" is one of my favorite tracks off the entire album - droning [which can only really be considered a compliment when speaking of Mr. Eno], dramatic piano line. Simple, flattering percussion. Roughly, jangly layered vocal tracks. [Gawd, I love his high, alien notvoice.] And then there's the fuzzy, obtrusive guitar 'blat-bleeeeblat' that breaks in independent of any other melody or counter-melody, supported by discordant hand claps. [...If this lazy, stupid description hasn't totally turned you off, just go listen to the goddamn song.] "
