The things we put ourselves through in the name of entertainment, almost as though we were in our heydey when people actually read blogs. So, for reasons previously explained, we have spent several days listening to a prescription of Grateful Dead songs. We have now given up on that, and I’m now enjoying the new Killers album as an antidote.
The playlist starts with a couple of live tracks, which may have been a mistake. When I was in my angsty teenage guitar-music albeit heavily influenced by American rock and bands that my dad liked, I might have had time for the Grateful Dead. However, individual of unique taste though I thought myself, there was also a certain Type for me, let’s call it the diamond in the rough; and these all-out beardy weirdies are more gold nugget still in the ground, and lack the cheekbones. The eternal twangle of guitars on these live tracks is too extravagant to be ignored in the background, and reminds me of something that would be best performed alone in teenage bedrooms, since it surely gives most pleasure to the performer himself.
As presumably the playlist sets out to showcase the range of Grateful Dead music at its best, we then move on to a track called Uncle John’s Band, which is less twangly and more of a twinkly, jolly singalong kind of number; the sort of thing that annoying people with guitars play over and over, because they only know this and Guantanamera.
Next up we have a bluesy sort of road song called Truckin’, which you might expect to hear in between Route 66 and Convoy on a bad compilation about driving in America.
Ripple, Sugar Magnolia, and Playing In The Band offer further selections of generally awful unlistenable shite. I have listened to this playlist enough times to be quite sure that it won’t grow on me. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it redeemed itself with the last three tracks, Jack Straw, Unbroken Chain, and Touch of Grey; but these are the only ones I have not deleted from my mp3 player. For the time being.
Hahahaha. I think you’ll find that people still do read blogs, only their mostly not the people who have a toddler and a job. I much enjoyed this review and am anticipating similar pleasure from its peer. I could embark on an extended riff about how a peer is a Peter to a t, but that’s probably the sort of thing best performed alone in teenage bedrooms, since it surely gives most pleasure to the performer, uh, herself.
THEY’RE
Dammit.
THEY’RE.
not their
sheeeeesh
I’m surprised that you haven’t remarked on that high pitched noise on Unbroken Chain. I found it ferociously unbearable.