Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Precious! (at least I think so.)

9:09: Gnat enters my studio. “Knock Knock.”

“Who’s there.”


“Banana don’t change your diaper.”

“Yes, it’s the only one you own. You might use it if you feel better. When you get home.”


“That’s not funny.”

“No, or particularly compelling in the musical or lyrical sense, either. I never really liked Steely Dan, hon. Didn’t dislike them, but while I appreciated that cool distance that set them off from the heart-on-the-sleeve troubadours or the glam rockers, I was never drawn in to their oeuvre. “Reelin’ in the Years” excepted, of course, but you could ascribe the appeal of that seminal tune to Elliot Randall’s guitar playing. If ever there was an example of the masterful use of tone, that was it; the notes were hot and wet, each one detonating like ripe grapes filled with quicksilver.”


“I have new underwear!” (runs from room.)

I think that’s the best possible response to all rock criticism. I have new underwear! Let’s try it: “While Fagen and Becker’s work leave me impressed but unmoved, why does Fagen’s ‘Nightfly’ – in particular, ‘New Frontier’ and the bittersweet ‘IGY’ - strike such a chord with me? They’re indistinguishable from Steely Dan tunes, really. Perhaps it’s the lyrics; perhaps the oblique and cryptic nature of Steely Dan’s lyrics put me off, and the relatively open and honest sentiments of Fagen’s solo work made the chilled tasteful irony of the arrangements seem more human.”

(Pause. All together now)


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