icebluenothing

Oh, say, what day is it -- ? That's right, it's Tuesday. I haven't done this for months and months, but -- it's time once again for Tunes for Tuesday!

See, at the Fremont Fair, Torrey and Arthur and I were walking by the stage where We Wrote the Book on Connectors were playing, and we ended up turning right around, coming back, and staying through the entire rest of the set. They were entirely fun and awesome.

If you ever listened to They Might Be Giants and thought to yourself, "gosh, they're fun and all, but I really wish they were a pop-punk band instead," then this is probably the band for you.

Their MP3s don't quite capture the energy of their live performance -- but then again, whose do? They're still worth checking out anyway. Start with these:

This has been a mostly horrible day, so I wanted to take a minute to bring you a little bit of awesome. This has really been making the rounds online lately, and the first night I heard it got more votes for 107.7 The End's top-ten list than the other nine songs combined (not bad for a couple of unsigned guys on the Internet), so my apologies if you've already encountered this one. But if you haven't, gosh, you need to:

Thou Shalt Always Kill - Dan Le Sac vs Scroobious Pip

It makes a great companion piece to Losing my Edge, one of the songs I posted last time. (You listened to all those, right?)

Wednesday night, at

ursako's instigation,

windbourne and I joined her at the Crocodile for their annual Cure cover night. As you may know, The Cure are pretty much my favorite band of all time, so I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

Then Jodie Watts took the stage. After a number or two, the lead singer looked out into the crowd and said:

"You know, we've got a lot of room up here on stage, so if anybody wants to come up here and dance, that'd be great. Actually, we've got a spare microphone up here, too, so if anyone wants to come sing with us, you can."

They're kidding, I thought. They can't really mean --

"Come on! Come on up here! You probably know the words to this one!"

And they started to play the opening notes of Just Like Heaven. My favorite Cure song ever.

A song that, for literally years, I've harbored a secret desire to sing, on stage, in front of an audience. Honestly.

I couldn't! I don't have the nerve --

The singer must have seen it all on my face, because then he pointed right at me and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Oh, I thought, what the fuck. And got up on stage.

---

"All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music," Walter Pater once said. I love doing my readings, don't get me wrong. I like being up on stage and weaving pictures with words. But I walk away from them, sometimes, wishing they had the immediacy, the energy, of musical performance.

Maybe that's overstating the case. Maybe a simpler way to put it is, I sometimes wish I were a rock star. Sure. Who doesn't?

For just a few minutes there, I got to be one.

It was an impossible moment; it was that Walter Mitty moment everyone secretly hopes for that never really comes, that kind of "Is there anyone on board who can fly this plane?" type of moment.

As impossible as, say, for example -- getting a second chance to know the girl whose name I never caught.

---

There is, at the center of my life, an impossibility. An impossibility that flashes me Cheshire-cat smiles, all soft curls and eyes dark as night, a glint in them like stars. A secret that sits in the middle and Knows. She reminds me that you can hold on to the impossible, that miracles happen all the time to those who reach out for them, that I can have everything I ever wanted. Be everything I ever wanted.

"As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same," Marianne Williamson wrote. "As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Consciously or unconsciously, just by being near me, she gives me that permission. And I shine.

Current Music: Just Like Heaven - The Cure

Nineteen years ago: Vancouver, BC, was celebrating its centennial with a world's fair, Expo '86. I was there. So was she. We were from the same hometown, but we were still worlds away from each other, years away from meeting. But there are traces of our paths crossing, physical evidence; we each have a photograph of ourselves, unmet, but standing in exactly the same place, doing the same thing. Coincidence, meaningless, but simple. Neat.

Fourteen years ago: I was just starting to explore this whole "goth" subculture, using the resources of the nascent Internet. Apparently several of the bands I already liked were considered goth, and I was eager to hear more. I went out and bought a CD by Bauhaus, a band everyone seemed to consider essential: Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape. It took a while for me to really start to like it -- to learn how to listen to it, it was so different from anything else I'd heard. But I did.

Seven years ago: I was there when Bauhaus played in Seattle, their revival tour, standing room only, pushed nearly to the front by the rush of an eager crowd, pressed back by a wave of music that filled the Paramount, drowning all of us in the deep, resonating opening to Bela Lugosi's Dead. "Welcome back," Peter Murphy said, addressing all of us, and I felt for a moment like I didn't belong -- I'd never been here before, with them, I could hardly be welcomed back -- but the feeling of love in the room, the crowd's love for the band, the band for the crowd, just filled me and carried me along. She wasn't there.

Five years ago: My much-loved Seattle net.goth community put on Convergence 6, a convention for net.goth's from around the world. Nearly 800 of them descended on Seattle, and for a moment I had my own small Halloween world. On the last night, there was a surprise appearance -- Peter Murphy, frontman for Bauhaus, played for an astonished and wildly enthusiastic crowd. She was there, this time, somewhere out in the dark. We'd met, briefly, but I had no idea she was there.

Sixty-eight weeks and five days ago: She tied a small ribbon of black silk at my wrist, and I kept it, because I was hers.

--------------------------------------

The only regret I've had about how

windbourne and I came to be together -- the timeline of it all, the missed connections, our long and slow dance as we circled each other, in nearing orbits -- is that I've wished that I had known her seven years ago, so I could have taken her to that concert, so she could have seen the long-dead band she loves as much as I do, maybe more.

But the one thing having her in my life keeps teaching me, again and again, is that sometimes you get second chances.

Bauhaus returns to the Paramount Theatre, Friday, October 21st. I already have our tickets. Welcome back.

I've been starting to wonder if I would have been better off if I'd never started buying music.

Music wasn't really that important to me when I was little. My fellow students in elementary school were stunned that I didn't have a favorite radio station. I did listen to KJR, some, and I enjoyed music, sure.

(I even once turned two speakers facing each other, with just enough room for my head between them, and stretched out on the floor and listened to the stereo, a little too loud, for a couple hours or so. By the time my parents caught me, it was too late -- I was half-deaf for three days.)

It all really clicked for me one Christmas, when my parents gave me a tiny portable radio with headphones. I was entranced by it, and started tuning around to find a radio station to listen to.

This was the beginning to the 80's, and KUBE 93.3 was playing the beginnings of New Wave. I fell in love with it. I started buying tapes and 45's, cataloging my favorite bands, my obsessions. Music wasn't just something to listen to -- it was something to line up on a shelf, something to hold on to and own.

It got worse in the days of Napster and Audiogalaxy. I could never just enjoy a song any more -- if I liked it, I had to know what it was, I had to have it, to listen to it again, play it for my friends.

It bothered me to listen to radio stations like C89.5, where I really liked the music, but where they rarely mentioned the artist and title. How was I supposed to reach out and grab hold of it if I didn't know what it was? I couldn't appreciate the song I was listening to right then -- I was too busy thinking about the next time I was going to hear it.

I don't know what's changed. I don't know how I've started to let go.

Part of it was listening to C89.5, actually -- listening to live DJ mixes, accepting them as ephemeral, enjoying them anyway even though it would be impossible to hear them again. Part of it is just trying to let go in life in general; to live in this moment instead of the next.

I listen to all kinds of music now. I still listen to C89.5, I listen to KEXP, and they play all kinds of great music, and I may never find out what half of it is and I may never hear it again. But why should I care when I can just listen to the radio again and hear more great music tomorrow?

I've been trying for years, to borrow an image from Crowded House, to catch a deluge in a paper cup. Lately, I've been trying to just stand still, face upward, eyes closed, and let it all wash over me. Wash me clean.

2004 was a wonderful year for pop music -- the first year I can remember in a long while when I actually enjoyed most of what I heard on the radio. I also saw more bands in concert this year than I did in, like, any other year ever, seems like. All kinds of good stuff out there.

Here are my top eleven favorite songs of 2004. (No, I couldn't narrow it down to ten. What, you want your money back?) This is based on nothing so much as trying to recall what songs made me reach out to crank up the volume knob whenever I heard them.

11. Keane: Somewhere Only We Know
Arguably a little too saccharine, but ultimately, I just thought this plea to talk over a failing relationship was a sweet, charming little song, especially after I heard it live. The singer seems so sincere! It's so cute!

10. Morrissey: Irish Blood, English Heart
Moz is back, and it's like he'd never been away, except he seems to be transitioning nicely from enfant terrible to bitter old man. I'd probably like this even better if I understood the politics involved, but I'm not bothered.

9. Interpol: Evil
I had a weird reaction to Interpol; namely, I love every song of theirs I've ever heard, but nothing ever stood out for me -- it all blurred together. This is the song that finally distinguished itself. I'm not sure what's going on in this song, but it certainly seems heartfelt.

8. Franz Ferdinand: Take Me Out
I had a hard time picking which FF song was going on this list -- the whole album is so tight -- but I have to go with the first one I ever heard. Many people argue that FF aren't doing anything musically that hasn't been done before, and sure, I'll grant you that -- it's just that they're doing it so well. I don't adore this band quite as much as

windbourne does, but they're way up there. Also, seeing this performed live at Deck the Hall Ball, and seeing the audience reaction -- that's one of my best music moments ever, let alone in 2004.

7. Jem: They
Hearing this is always going to remind me of dancing to it with

dreadangel at Norwescon -- she was dressed as Pris from Blade Runner, and her movements were intentionally unnatural and jerky, and that seemed exactly right. This is the sound of a music-box for broken clockwork dolls, and there's nothing else I can compare it to.

6. The Killers: Somebody Told Me
When

saheeb138 first heard this on the radio, he called me and told me, "I just heard a song you're going to love." It's a little embarrassing to be so transparent and predictable, but he was totally right. This song rocks and just doesn't stop rocking until it's over.

5. The Cure: The End of the World
From my favorite band ever comes the best break-up song ever. (Right when I needed it, too, dammit.) Bitterness, regret, anger, and lingering love and fondness, all of it tied together with the best production values The Cure has ever had. The band hasn't sounded this gritty, edgy, and real since the Pornography album.

4. Green Day vs. Oasis: Boulevard of Broken Songs
San Francisco producer/remixer Party Ben finally proved to me that mash-ups can be more than just novelty songs. This one's an essential. I can't hear either Boulevard of Broken Dreams or Wonderwall without mentally supplying the missing half, now. (If you haven't heard this, you can download it from Party Ben's website.)

3. Modest Mouse: Float On
I'm not a huge Modest Mouse fan; I wasn't heartbroken to leave during their set at Deck the Hall Ball. But this song -- this just nailed it for me. It's happy, bouncy, dreamy, floaty, and it just flat out makes me feel better every time I hear it. It makes me feel like everything is, in fact, going to be okay. And it never hurts to hear that.

2. U2: Vertigo
Oh. My. God. This rocks so much. I cranked my poor little radio to maximum volume whenever this came on when I was alone in my truck. I like this even more than anything on Achtung Baby, and it's nice to see this kind of return to form after the good but slightly wussy All That You Can't Leave Behind. "Just give me what I want and no one gets hurt," indeed.

1. Green Day: American Idiot
This also consistently got the maximum-volume-wish-it-went-to-eleven treatment. It rocks just as hard as Vertigo, but its content brings it to number one: all the anger and frustration of a disenfranchised blue electorate is boiled down like purified molten lead and distilled into one perfect bullet.

Just got back from The End's Deck the Hall Ball. Pretty damn entertaining. At this point, there are several events I really should go back and write about, but for once I think I'll go ahead and get this down while it's still fresh in my head.

Due to horrendous traffic, terrible rain, some poor last-minute navigational choices on my part, and a general lack of parking, we didn't quite get there on time, so Snow Patrol was already playing when we got there. We could hear, while we were still outside, that they were playing Run, their one big radio hit, as we approached. I was glad we'd made it -- I said to windbourne that I'd been afraid we'd miss their set entirely. We made it inside, looked at T-shirts for a minute, and then headed into the concert area just in time to hear them saying, "Thank you, Seattle! Good night!" So, yeah. I think I caught a brief glimpse of them as they left the stage.

So then came the descent down steep stairs in the dark down to push my way into a huge mass of people. Let's see, did I overlook any phobias there? I had a little trouble keeping myself moving one foot in front of the other, but I managed, and I was strangely okay once I actually got into the dense crowd.

Keane played next. I'd heard a couple of songs of theirs, but had only really paid attention to one of them, Somewhere Only We Know, which I'd found charming and cute if slightly cloying. They were really quite good live -- the singer has good stage presence, a voice like an angel, and looks, as Ahna pointed out, "like David Cassidy." If he's not already, this man is destined to be the number-one crush object of fourteen-year-old girls everywhere.

As much as I liked the music, this set was nearly ruined for us by the assholes standing right next to us smoking pot. We hate you and we hope you die.

We shoved our way deeper into the crowd for clearer air to listen to The Shins, who had the uncanny ability to sound both tinny and muddy at the same time. .... I dunno. The first Shins song I ever heard, Know Your Onion, was most excellent and was in heavy rotation in my MP3 player for weeks, but everything after that I've been lukewarm about. Tonight's set was no exception. They're decent enough, but they're just not one of my favorites. I think I definitely like their studio-recorded stuff better.

This time, we were standing near the world's biggest Shins fan, who was prone to calling out things like, "The Shins are the greatest band ever! Fuck Keane!" He made me giggle lots. We were also, however, standing near more pot-smoking assholes. I'm carrying mace the next time I go to a concert. Anyway, since I was getting dizzy and headachey, and Ahna wasn't doing so well either, we decided to go sit down like old people.

Up next were The Killers who were OMFG excellent! They had great stage presence, they rocked hard, they had nice jackets, I can't say enough good things about them. I need to get their album. Need.

After that was Franz Ferdinand, who were, if possible, even more excellent than when we saw them at EndFest. They seemed more confident and polished this time. Best performance of the night. The crowd went nuts for Take Me Out -- the half of the crowd nearest the stage were jumping up and down. So great. There's something about this fresh-faced British foursome that puts me in mind of Beatles concert footages.

Finally came Modest Mouse. I like them well enough, but I'm not at all sure why they were last. They sound like they're playing underwater, and I mean that in a good way, but they really brought the energy of the evening waaaay doooown after FF, despite the surprise guest appearance by -- the Sonics' sasquatch mascot. (WTF? WTFF?) Also, aside from the low energy, their set just seemed really sloppy, with long unstructured pauses between songs. A good chunk of the crowd left during their set, including, eventually, us, once we realized a.) we'd heard our favorite Modest Mouse songs and b.) we were slowly starving to death. So we ended our evening with a trip to Minnie's, which was right near where we'd parked anyway.

In all -- not a bad birthday present. Thanks, Ahna!

Current Music: Modest Mouse - The Good Times are Killing Me

Seems like

windbourne and I are going to a lot of concerts lately. Okay, sure, we're getting "An Evening With The Cure" instead of the scheduled Curiosa festival, but we were mainly going for the sake of seeing The Cure anyway, and we had managed to score cheap tickets, too, so we're perfectly content. And besides, we're going to EndFest anyway, so we'll still get the whole great-big-show-with-lotsa-bands thing. 'Sall good.

(Speaking of The Cure, the Weekly's review of the new album is one great big neon what the fuck? Seriously.)

Last night's show -- I haven't slept yet, so Wednesday is still "last night" to me -- was frickin' awesome. Last night we went to see Monsters of Accordion. Yes, you read that correctly.

Daniel Ari, Aaron Seeman, and Jason Webley were each quite entertaining. We were mainly there to see Jason Webley, whom windbourne had seen before, but I have to admit that Aaron Seeman was my favorite. Have you ever seen anyone do dead-on Dead Kennedys covers on an accordion? No. No, you haven't. But now we have. And our lives are somehow a little more complete.

I'm a few weeks late posting this, but:

If you haven't been listening to The End lately, you should give them another try.

I still remember how much I enjoyed The End back when they first started. They were full of life and fun. I still have a T-shirt, from back in those days, bearing their original logo. It's nearly worn out.

Somewhere along the line, that verve dwindled away, and they started playing corporate, computerized playlists full of indistinguishable grrr-arrgh Linkin BizKorN stuff. Ehh. I still listened to it, sometimes, when I couldn't find anything better on the radio, but my heart wasn't in it because their heart wasn't in it.

The only thing that was any good any more was their lunchtime all-request show, where they played a lot of excellent older stuff, and I kept wondering why, if that's what their listeners were requesting, they didn't get a clue and just start playing that kind of stuff the rest of the day.

They finally did. Not long before Christmas -- The Stranger had an article about all the whys and wherefores, but I can't find it on their website -- The End changed their format.

I've been hearing The Cure, REM, the Sex Pistols, The Clash, Postal Service -- all kinds of good stuff from all over the map.

I couldn't be more happy with it. I actually get excited now, when I get in my truck, to hear what's going to be on the radio next. I haven't felt like that about radio in years.

The DJs are clearly into it, too. They're thrilled. It shows in how they talk about the music they're playing.

Which brings me, finally, to this week's installment of, that's right, Tunes for Tuesday.

---

DJ Harms played this one night a couple weeks back. Something he was clearly personally enthusiastic about. It was then that I finally keyed in that now, finally, the music I was hearing wasn't just some committee-approved pablum -- there was a real person on the other end of the radio who was sitting around playing records he thought we might like. I was overwhelmed at that realization, seriously almost near tears over it, and then I heard this:

The Polyphonic Spree - Light and Day.mp3

Turn your speakers up for this one. The Polyphonic Spree are a band with about thirty members at any given time, including a ten-person chorus, and a bunch of other people playing damn near every instrument you could think of. They pack themselves onto stage wearing white robes, and -- Well, yeah, they're clearly quite mad. And wonderful. This song is the purest distillation of joy I've heard since The Beatles. Check it out and let me know what you think.

Okay, the past couple of Tunes for Tuesday have been kinda gloomy. Enough of that. The weather is gloomy enough. Here's some bouncy pop goodness: What We Need More Of Is Science, by The John Benjamin Band. (This one goes out to

josefinek,

kespernorth, and

morgyne especially.)

www.songfight.org/music/morescience/jbb_morescience.mp3

In other news, I'm working on putting together the TFT mix CD, just in time for the holidays, including several of the previous Tunes and a bunch more stuff you probably haven't heard. It's yours in return for a blank CD-R, or even better, in return for a mix CD of your own devising. Lemme know if you want one.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

That's Mad Girl's Love Song, by Sylvia Plath.

Perhaps it's morbid of me, or at the very least a little trite and obvious of me; but I'm fascinated by the artistic output of the suicidal. I want to know, to feel, whatever it was they couldn't bear to carry around in their hearts. Maybe to try to carry it for them. I don't know.

Anyway, I bring this up because it is time again (now that it's after midnight) for Tunes for Tuesday, and I want you to hear how a band called Fisher have set this poem to beautiful, haunting music.

www.fishertheband.com/MadGirlMp3/Mad_Girl_FISHER.mp3

So on this week's edition of Tunes for Tuesday, I thought I'd play a little Interpol for you. Interpol is a band from New York who have a very British sound; their history mentions how they "cultivated a unique aesthetic", but frankly, you can mark me down with the people who think their "unique aesthetic" consists largely of sounding a hell of lot like Joy Division.

But that's cool, I always liked Joy Division, and I like this new stuff coming out of New York. So without further ado, here's Obstacle 1, one of my favorites. (Here are the lyrics, too. I keep forgetting to post lyrics when I do this .... )

bloodletters.com/mp3/interpol-obstacle1.mp3

I don't remember what I was searching for when I found these. (Did you know that searching Google for "index.of Apache band.name" is a good way to find MP3s by band name?) But I tripped across this directory of MP3s that just had titles for filenames -- no band listed. Ever curious, I downloaded all of them to see what they were.

I soon found I now had a whole album by Kidneythieves called Zerospace. I'd heard one of their songs before -- Before I'm Dead is on the soundtrack of Queen of the Damned. I listened to these new tracks and liked them quite a bit. Kick-ass, dark music with female vocals. wendolen commented that they remind her of Luxt, and I think that's an apt comparison.

Anyway -- I seem to be posting a lot of covers here on Tunes for Tuesday, and this week is no exception. Here's a nice, growly, sexy cover of, of all things, Patsy Cline's Crazy.

bloodletters.com/mp3/kidneythieves-crazy.mp3

So I've always been fond of the Barenaked Ladies' song If I Had $1000000, ever since

kaneda_khan first told me about hearing it in a record store, being charmed by it, and buying the album, long before the band made it big in the States.

But listening to the lyrics always made me wonder:

Could you really buy all that stuff for a million dollars? That's not really that much money any more, is it?

I decided to find out.

---

"If I had a million dollars
I'd buy you a house"
Okay, if I'm going to buy you a house, it's going to be a house right here in Shoreline, so I can visit you often, so you can put all thoughts of a nice little cottage on the French Riviera right out of your head, to start with. After a little browsing, I've decided I'll buy you this house, for a cool $319,950.

"I'd buy you furniture for your house
(Maybe a nice chesterfield or an ottoman)"
Why choose? Here's a nice Chesterfield Ottoman in burgundy leather, a reproduction of a Victorian piece, for just $639.95.

"Well, I'd buy you a K-Car
(A nice Reliant automobile)"
Well, according to this nice little review on Epinions.com, I could probably pick up a 1985 Plymouth Reliant 'K' car for $600. (They're supposed to be good little cars, too.)

"I'd build a tree fort in our yard"
This great little FAQ on treehouses tells me that all the supplies to build a really decent one will set me back about $1000. Sounds about right ....

"Maybe we could put like a little tiny fridge in there somewhere"
Those are easy enough to come by. Here's one from OfficeMax for $109.99.

"There would already be laid out foods for us
Like little pre-wrapped sausages and things"
Maybe it's declassé of me, but this makes me think of a Hickory Farms assortment. The one I've linked to is just $19.99.

"Well, I'd buy you a fur coat
(But not a real fur coat that's cruel)"
Did you know even the fake ones are expensive? Even this Faux White Mink Serape Coat is going to cost $395. I'm having second thoughts about all this, you know.

"Well, I'd buy you an exotic pet
(Yep, like a llama or an emu)"
These are cheaper than I thought they'd be, actually. I can get you a llama from this site for just $500. I thought at first I might need to buy you more than one, though -- the site also says, "Remember llamas are herd animals and they need companionship from other llamas. Don't buy a llama from someone who will sell you a single llama, if you don't already have llamas, unless the llama is going into a guard position." But then I realized a "guard position" would be fine -- it can guard that house I'm buying you.

"Well, I'd buy you John Merrick's remains
(Ooh, all them crazy elephant bones)"
I'm afraid that's out of the question. John Merrick's remains have been at the Royal London Hospital, since his death. Not even rich wacko Michael Jackson has been able to convince the hospital to part with them, so I don't think I'd manage it on my paltry budget. Sorry, I hope you didn't have your heart set on this one. As a consolation, I'm getting you The Elephant Man on DVD for $17.99.

"We wouldn't have to walk to the store [...]
Now, we'd take a limousine 'cause it costs more"
True enough. Weirdly, though, I can't find many limousine rental places that are willing to list their rates -- they want you to contact them for a quote. But this page of limousine rental tips tells me I can expect to spend at least $100 when renting one for a couple of hours. Close enough.

"But we would eat Kraft Dinner [...]
And buy really expensive ketchups with it"
Kraft Dinner is too cheap for me to even bother looking up the price, but I was curious about what constitutes an "expensive ketchup." The most expensive one I could find was Steel's Gourmet Ketchup, for $6.89. (I'd be remiss here if I didn't mention the teaspoon of ketchup that cost Heinz half a million dollars, but I think we'll stick with the Steel's.)

"Well, I'd buy you a green dress
(But not a real green dress, that's cruel)"
This one nearly stumped me, I'll admit. Until I found this Mock Dress with 3/4 Sleeves, available in Hunter Green, for just $25.50.

"Well, I'd buy you some art
(A Picasso or a Garfunkel)"
I can't buy you Art Garfunkel, obviously, due to those pesky slavery laws. Besides, he'd probably just sit around the house all day bothering your llama and eating all your Kraft Dinner. That leaves the Picasso.

I didn't really think I could get you a real Picasso, frankly, not on this measly budget. I mean, Les Noces de Pierrette was sold for over 50 million, and that was in 1989. But then I read about this auction, where they sold prints and ceramics. (He made more than 2,400 prints during his life, you know.) The cheapest lots went for £1,000, so let's assume I could get you a little something for about $2,000.

"Well, I'd buy you a monkey
(Haven't you always wanted a monkey)"
Sure, who doesn't? This page has a cute little baby girl Capuchin monkey for $6,500.

"If I had a million dollars
I'd be rich"
Well -- not really. Not after I've blown $331,865.31 on you. Admittedly, that means I'd still have $668,134.69 to play around with ....

Until April 15th, mind you.

I nearly forgot, on account of the novelty of actually being awake in the mornings this week, but it's time once again for Tunes for Tuesday.

It's not like all I ever do is download covers of eighties Goth favorites, but when I heard that trip-hop artist Tricky had released a cover of The Lovecats, I had to go find it. You know I *heart* The Cure, right?

I like it. You might not, but give it a whirl. It's breathy, slinky, sexy, intimate; a strange little styling that suits the lyrics. In a word, it's swanktastic.

We should have each other for tea, huh? / We should have each other with cream

bloodletters.com/mp3/Tricky-The_Lovecats.mp3

A little less melancholy than last week's offering, and definitely back into that summertime vibe, is this week's rendition of Tunes for Tuesday.

I keep forgetting to upload this one -- I mean, haven't I already played it for everybody? Haven't I already put it on enough mix-discs for people? But no, I haven't spread the love far enough yet. Time to correct it. Here's Crush, by AC Acoustics.

I had no idea how I ended up with this MP3 for the longest time -- now I think I found it accidentally while looking for Placebo tracks, since I just found out while looking for the lyrics that Brian Molko (swoon!) sings the backing vocals.

AC_Acoustics-Crush.mp3

Hello again, and welcome to a slightly more melancholy version of Tunes for Tuesday.

In honor of the upcoming showing of Donnie Darko at the Egyptian Theatre (this Friday and Saturday at midnight), I just had to bring you this cover of the Tears for Fears song, Mad World, as performed by Gary Jules -- a haunting, pretty version of the song for an equally haunting and clever little film.

gary_jules-mad_world.mp3

So, yeah, I meant to start doing this as a regular thing, but I got distracted by having no net access for a while .... That said, welcome once again to Tunes for Tuesday!

For your listening pleasure, here's Such Great Heights, by the Postal Service. As bright and hopeful and happy as the last song I posted was dark, I would strongly suggest listening to this really loud while in a fast car with the windows down.

postal_service-such_great_heights.mp3

Here's something I've been meaning to start doing for a while. I've just uploaded an MP3 of a song I've been enjoying the hell out of lately, and I'll leave it up for a couple of days so you can hear it.

This time out, the song is This Could Be Love, by pop-punk band Alkaline Trio.

Despite (or perhaps because of) the song's genuinely messed-up lyrics, I find it really irresistably poppy and catchy. I can't stop playing the damn thing.

See for yourself:

alkaline_trio-this_could_be_love.mp3

Right-click, save-as, rock-out.

----

And as long as you're in a downloading mood, you might wanna check out this full live set of MP3's from local band 6fg's latest show. Too much good stuff.

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