notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Friday, December 30, 2005

Friday Random Ten (Friday Edition)

All day Wednesday I thought it was Friday. All day yesterday I had no idea what day it was. Then Ben reminded me it was FRT(TE) day, but by then it was too late. We haven't done one of these on a Friday for quite some time, so let's see how it goes.

John Prine, The Moon Is Down - From his latest album, Fair & Square. I really like John Prine. I think there are a lot of valid criticisms to be made of his songwriting, but something about his music always puts me in a good mood.
Jim Carroll, It Goes - Spoken word track over some strange noises. Tom Waits could make this work; Jim Carroll not so much.
The Beastie Boys, Something’s Got to Give - Eh. Skip.
Primus, The Thing That Should Not Be - Should I even bother posting this list? Serves me right for playing Friday Random Ten on Friday, of all days. Skip.
Bullfrog, Hotel Food - An improvement, but not nearly enough to make up for the last four duds. Nice little musical track.
The Fugees, Ready Or Not - Garbage. I’m giving this thing two more songs to blow me away. Otherwise, I’m clicking “publish” and going to the gym.
The Brian Setzer Orchestra, The Nutcracker Suite - At least this one is seasonal. Actually, I like this adaptation quite a bit. The Nutcracker swings much more than I would have imagined.
Gorillaz, Dirty Harry - Good enough for me to stick around for another track. This album made my top ten for 2005 (number 8, to be precise), and this isn’t one of its best songs, but still very solid.
Ludwig van Beethoven, Symphony No. 9/ --Recitative: O Freunde, nicht diese Tone! - Then, brothers, it came. O bliss, bliss and heaven, oh it was gorgeousness and georgeosity made flesh. The trombones crunched red gold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise, silver-flamed and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again, crunched like candy thunder. It was like a bird of rarest spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a space ship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures. There were veeks and ptitsas laying on the ground screaming for mercy and I was smecking all over my rot and grinding my boot into their tortured litsos and there were naked devotchkas ripped and creeching against walls and I plunging like a shlaga into them. Or something like that.
Beck, Emergency Fruit - I’ve never listened to anything on this album before. This is not bad sounding, but I don’t think I’ll be rushing to hear it again any time soon.

So, that sucked. I blame Friday. Back to Thursday Edition next week, if I can start keeping my days of the week straight.