Songs Nineteen, Twenty, and Twenty-One

Onward, ever onward.

Short break to take my head out of the ice box, let my rocking husband back in the house after his night o'music makin', and grab a refreshing glass of cool water. And, now, back to the blogging . . .

Song Nineteen: Jolie Holland, "Old Fashioned Morphine"
I don't know how I found this song. It had a nice, Woody Allen vibe to it. Though, this is what I got when my husband passed by, Squirrel Nut Zippers got a new album? Hey, make sure to mention we have their Christmas CD, that's good for your street cred. Yeah, thanks. Anyway, Ms. Holland has a comforting drugged out delivery that really sells this 20s feeling name-check to all the morphine users. I have to admit to being fairly straight edge, but during my second pregnancy, I became seriously ill which resulted--after a series of misadventures--with my becoming dehydrated. The doctor told me that my joints could ache a bit the evening I was released from the hospital but neglected to tell me I'd be screaming in pain and desirous of hacking off my limbs (way pre-Saw I might add). I wound up back in labor and delivery triage, where they promptly shot me up with demerol. Wow, I could immediately see the appeal. I felt like I had put on the most comfy cashmere sweater ever, not a care in the world. Ms. Holland has captured this mood wonderfully.

Song Twenty: Clue to Kalo, "The Just is Enough"
I haven't the foggiest who this band is (see how I pointedly escape the clue pun). The song byte sold me. It had a real Simon and Garfunkel feel; the song conjures sunlight golden 70s images involving dappled leaves, bike rides over bridges, and daisies. Then, suddenly, a guitar solo shows up, which doesn't really seem to fit. And, just as quickly, it disappears. The song would have been better without it. Don't harsh on my mellow, boys.

Song Twenty-One: Head of Femur, "Skirts are Taking Over"
This time, the title got me to drop my hard earned 99. Too perfect. Again, has a real S & G start (a bust-up of the beginning to "America"). Totally, '68-72 style delivery and production, complete with tinkling bells, horns, and absolutely appropriate drum fills. Fantastic background vocals, too. This sounds like it should have played over the credits of an ABC movie of the week with Barbara Eden in white patent boots and a mini-skirt suit, as she kicks ass and takes names in the real estate office moving from receptionist to broker--before falling for Don Meredith, her ex-football star client. Head of Femur is apparently a supergroup formed of members from bands I've never heard of--kind of like a skating with celebrities supergroup. Still, this music is terribly fun! It makes me think of my old ball and chain AM radio.

344 to go.