It's the end of the year, I'm at work and I need pepped up by something. As, generally speaking and subject to modern lyrical confirmation the drugs don't work I settle for some cola and a Kit Kat. Strangely my mind can't settle on much other than marvelling and focusing on the deserving misery of others, not a worthy theme for the demise of 2011 or good for the soul, but these things happen. You can at times be overcome by uncontrollable and often laughable thought patterns that add no value or bring home the Brownie Points. The blurred line between acceptable and guilty pleasure is becoming clearer and I must make that crossing. Perhaps this schadenfreude will leave me as I meditate on the wise words of Obadiah 1:12, but no, that would never work. Middle Eastern claptrap from the dawn of so-called civilisation can't help, I'm far too European now. So seeing or hearing about the smug and self righteous hitting some temporary lifetime reef is rather good and I prefer, despite all my higher, better, (whatever you categorise them as ) feelings to savour the moment. I know fine will it wont last either way but when an inferior snake oil salesman buys a tanker full of somebody else's even worse snake oil you have to laugh.
The Black Keys – El Camino, a late but welcome Christmas present: In heaven there will only be guitars, bass, drums, odd and meaningful vocals and pinches of well placed keyboards. I'm glad I've sorted that out for myself. Maybe one day all music will sound like this, only enhanced by the vocals of Lulu, the production of Rick Rubin and far away in the distance and almost lost in the final mix but discernible just the same the faint growl of a wah wah pedal. I plan to die happy.