From A Sentimental Education, due September 22 on PledgeMusic/Double Features Records.
My favorite era of the Cure is the Three Imaginary Boys period before they incorporated synths. They were just scrappy young punks with a clever sense of melody. Their gloomy stuff is great too, of course, but I drove around for an entire year of high school with a tape of Boys Don’t Cry stuck in the cassette deck of my Cutlass Supreme (with Love and Rockets’ Earth•Sun•Moon on the flip) and never got tired of it. While never showcased as a single, “Fire in Cairo” is a highlight of that era.
Luna is the band that Dean Wareham started after leaving Galaxie 500. They’re a 90s band, but they got back together a couple years ago to tour and record an album of covers. Their take on “Fire in Cairo” sticks pretty close to the original arrangement but the tone of the guitars and Wareham’s vocals make it sound like classic Luna.
The video follows Rose McGowan around as she goes about her day, hanging with friends, admiring fan art drawings, taking in a rock show at Gold Diggers, doing interviews, etc. It seems to suggest a commentary on the loneliness of aging, but that might just be me projecting my own feelings onto it.
A few years ago, a bunch of Andy Warhol prints made their way to the Czech Museum here in Cedar Rapids (Warhol was of Czechoslovakian decent) and it provided a rare opportunity to come face to face with some of his work.
The only trouble was, the weekend of the exhibit I had to watch over my son while the wife was working. I don’t know how many of you have spent time with three-year olds, but there is no comprehension to someone of that age that looking at pieces of art qualifies as fun and that part of that “fun” would require being stationary for short periods of time, quietly reflecting on individual pieces and admiring their beauty and technique.
Liz Phair reviews Dean Wareham‘s memoir, Black Postcards: A Rock & Roll Romance, for the New York Times. Apparently, the frontman of Galaxie 500 and Luna “portrays himself as a surprisingly unsympathetic character.” Frontman:
One of the things “Black Postcards” does so well is shatter the illusion that rock ‘n’ roll is all fun and games. Things pile up. The weight of the accumulated past begins to take its toll. Wareham fights to stay engaged in his creative efforts, sometimes at the expense of the stability of both his family and his band. Sick of rumors, sick of disgruntled fans, bad hotels, bad gigs, he may be writing down his remembrances partly to set the record straight. But his supreme interest is clearly and purely music. It is the scaffold on which he hangs most of the feelings and fragments included in the book.
Jeez, they let anybody write for the New York Times these days, don’t they?