I played drums along with two records this weekend, Ipod-style. Super fun, better than solitary drum clams in a garage vacuum. Key elements gotta be sitting up straight and breathing, plus keeping on, even when you get tangled up. Plus enjoying the physicality of life, and the little time travel memories of people and places that pop up when you're keepin' some time. People are haunted by the bad-asses, shredders, and bitchin' monster players we're all sposed to end up being if we do anything. The truly cursed are the trumpet players, with their tendancy toward unfortunate hair care products and Miles Davis Is God Syndrome.




I finished the third Stieg Larsson book, The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest. I'm sorry to see that trilogy come to an end--but the word is that there is a fourth manuscript that will come out once the sad conflicts over the estate are finished. In the meantime, I have started the Husker Du bio, and gotta say that all the preemptive griping and criticizing of it (even in the form of apologies from the author) are uncalled for, and kind of a weird gestalt bitchiness. It's a solid, non-sensational book and people probably got worked up because the band means so much to so many folks. Even without full involvement from the band, everyone gets a voice, via interview material, etc. Learning new things, like how they had a book of fairly by-the-numbers power pop songs that fell by the wayside early on. I like it. Like The Big Boys said, Now YOU go start a band.