The Divine Miss W
I have just recently discovered the ultimate in mind-bending experiences: Playing Glen Campbell's hit version of "Southern Nights" back to back with Allen Toussaint's trippy, witchy, fever-spell original. Over and over. For three days straight. Let me re-emphasize that. Three. Days. Straight. Okay, maybe you should, I dunno, eat some bananas or something while you're doing it. Anyway, something's kicking in. Maybe it's just the bananas. Maybe the only one bananas here is me.
Actually before all this foolishness I've been listening to a lot of Marine Girls lately. I'd been hearing about them for years, first being hipped to their existence by Lois Maffeo in the Angry Women In Rock book as a sort of acoustic samba girl group with one of the chicks going on to later form Everything But The Girl. During these steamy pre-summer days there is something about the sound of this that brings me back to my past and the music that formed and influenced me. Even if none of this sounds anything even remotely close to what I had listened to in the distant past in the very least.
Oh, before I forget, I just picked up the latest DVD of Mommie Dearest (Hollywood Royalty Edition) which provides delightfully witty commentary by John Waters who makes a strangely fascinating defense of the film as well as Joan Crawford, Faye Dunaway, and director Frank Perry (he half-seriously explains how these days a simple dose of Paxil could have probably fixed about 90% of Crawford's OCD and manic-depression disorders). Waters is just one of those cats that I could listen to talk for hours on end about any subject in the known universe. And all I wanna do now is rent the William Castle flick Strait-Jacket just to hear Crawford utter those same famous lines in the rose garden that were spoken in this very same film first.
Actually before all this foolishness I've been listening to a lot of Marine Girls lately. I'd been hearing about them for years, first being hipped to their existence by Lois Maffeo in the Angry Women In Rock book as a sort of acoustic samba girl group with one of the chicks going on to later form Everything But The Girl. During these steamy pre-summer days there is something about the sound of this that brings me back to my past and the music that formed and influenced me. Even if none of this sounds anything even remotely close to what I had listened to in the distant past in the very least.
Oh, before I forget, I just picked up the latest DVD of Mommie Dearest (Hollywood Royalty Edition) which provides delightfully witty commentary by John Waters who makes a strangely fascinating defense of the film as well as Joan Crawford, Faye Dunaway, and director Frank Perry (he half-seriously explains how these days a simple dose of Paxil could have probably fixed about 90% of Crawford's OCD and manic-depression disorders). Waters is just one of those cats that I could listen to talk for hours on end about any subject in the known universe. And all I wanna do now is rent the William Castle flick Strait-Jacket just to hear Crawford utter those same famous lines in the rose garden that were spoken in this very same film first.
posted by Melissa at 3:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home