I occasionally have something really meaningful from a long time ago just surface in my head. Like a body, that’s been dumped in a river by a serial killer, and forgotten about, until it bloats, and fills with methane, and the tendons and pieces and things get separated, and the whole thing comes bobbing to the surface minus, like, the foot that was chained to the cinder block when it got dumped.
Only, I usually like the thing that comes up for air in my head. I mean, most of the time.
So that entire extended simile is basically not correct at all.
But imma leave it.
Because I’m lazy.
Ok. So, before I became one of the bad kids, and started skipping school and smoking things and whatnot?
I loved this band. Like, full love.
If you’ve never heard The Wallflowers, then let me be the first person to say welcome to Earth. Every single thing that’s alive on this planet has heard The Wallflowers.
It’s Jakob Dylan. As in progeny of Bob Dylan. Whose real last name.is Zimmerman. Just so we’re all in the same page. Who is basically God, in my heart and in my mind.
One of them.
I’m pantheistic. It’s fine.
Hunter Thompson is another one.
Anyhow. I was doing my makeup this morning and my brain decided to take a little break from telling me all the ways in which I suck and it was like “psst.”
And I was like, “no, brain. Not today. You are not nice.”
And my brain was all, “no for real. I promise not to be a dick.”
And I was like “bullshit. You’re always a dick.”
And it was all, “Jakob Dylan, yo!”
And I was like “dammit. Okay. That was worth it. Thanks, brain.”
And my brain was like, “sure thing.”
So I immediately downloaded “Bringing Down the Horse” and I’ve been happy all day.
This is one of the greatest albums of my lifetime. And now that I’ve grown out of my angsty teenager phase and am pretty well settled into my churlish thirties, this album once again reflects my soul.
Every song is good. “Three Marlenas” and “Josephine” will blow your mind. But here are two songs that represent what I love most about the Dylan spawn.
Whether he’s singing an upbeat song or grumbling a melancholy dirge, his voice is perfect for all occasions.
And it’s similar to his daddy’s, but it’s novel enough to be interesting.
Alright. That’s all I got. First is “God Don’t Make Lonely Girls,” and then you can check out “I Wish I Felt Nothing.”
I do wish I could feel nothing sometimes. Feelings are expensive. They cost a lot of energy that I don’t have. Ugh.