I just got fired from rockstardom. Mr. Lomax said he just wasn't seeing any hits. I don't blame him. He did make a half-hearted promise regarding the re-release of some of the older material, along with possibly some new tracks, as something of a swan song, tentatively titled demonade. Of course, all the while keeping in mind that "farewell tour" more often than not means, "chart-topping comeback tour!" Right, elton? it's all about ceremony.
also, rockstars are stupid. latest show I went to was now it's overhead/desaparecidos, the first of which was great and like the album (with orenda and maria in fine shape, natch), the second of which was cringe-inducing, early emo-sounding, punkrock attitude-having, fabricated stage-bantering noise, and we all agreed that we liked conor oberst(comm. venus, bright eyes) better when he was too nervous to talk and too young to drink. I went home with head aching and eyes stinging.
parenthetical: this is the reason for my new glasses. smoky environment. what can I say, I love smokers. I live and play with smokers. deep down inside I am a smoker, I suppose. Hence, contacts don't work out so well. the glasses I got were cheap and plastic and of the nada surf variety. very alternative.
a pithy illustration of my current situation as a musician: I woke up in the middle of the night with a melody and lyric in my head, and the thought occurred to me to find a tape recorder and sit in a closet for a few minutes, but draped across my chest was the clutching-sleeping arm of the girl I love, and heavy on my shoulder was the softly breathing head of the same girl, and it made me exceedingly happy- I smiled and drifted off again, to awake in the morning with no more melody, no more lyric in my head. c'est la...