A lot of solo road time lately. Got a special deal on satellite radio so have that for a while. I punch around a lot. Satellite radio is almost as bewildering as the Worldwide Web, what with the rabbit holes available. I like Bloomberg Business News just because I find it interesting to view current events through the filter of finance, never mind that I don’t understand half of what they’re talking about. I listen to it as a form of word jazz. I listen to some foam-at-the-mouth sports talk if they’re discussing NFL football, but after 15 minutes I’m all full. Then maybe some NPR. But music mostly. I cycle through channels 7 (’70s), 8 (80’s), 21 (Alt Nation), 22 (1st Wave), 23 (Hair Nation), 29 (The Loft), 30 (The Coffeehouse), 62 (The Roadhouse), 63 (Outlaw Country), 64 (Willie’s Place) and 147 (Road Dog Trucking).
Today I heard Echo and the Bunnymen, Gary Numan, Mel Tillis, and Cinderella all on the same trip.
But the tune that really got me was “Little Lion Man” by Mumford and Sons. Apparently I am the last person on the globe who hadn’t heard it, as it’s pretty much an international monster hit. It is catchy and all, but I am taken above all by the grim edge of the song, which captures mercilessly the sick in your guts when you must face the fact that you have gravely failed another. The language in one particular line is not for children or the churchly, but I can tell you I own moments in my past for which that profane phrase was the only adequate take.
You can watch and listen here, but again, out of respect to those of you who’d rather not hear coarse language, be advised it’s there.
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