1. Matt asked a few days ago about what he can expect in Seattle. Here is the answer in song -- sweet, velvety song.
2. I was at Bop Street Records this weekend, and these three boys, all between the ages of about 10-12, came in and rushed straight down to the basement, where there are literally tens of thousands of surplus records on shelves running wall-to-wall (imagine the last shot from Raiders of the Lost Ark, but for records -- it's amazing). Maybe 20 minutes later they were asking for prices on a stack of Perry Como records, and I mean, only Perry Como records. Maybe five or six of them. One of them was this record:
which I've always wanted to acquire for the purposes of wall art alone. (I did not come away with any Como, but I did pick up a copy of Bob Dylan's debut album, a Mississippi John Hurt double-album, Rust Never Sleeps, Juicy Fruit (Disco Freak), and "Heroes".)
Anyway, I just wanted to prepare you guys for a resurgence of Italian-American crooners, because when those kids of today become the hipsters of tomorrow, all that Como and Dean Martin and Tony Bennett lying around in discount bins is going to explode. Buy low.
3. Perry Como for the win, motherfuckers.
5 comments:
Neil Diamond.
(From last week, Tyles.... I will see D&D when they get to Irvine/LA in November. Hugs.)
Remember when all the hipsters got into Tony Bennett for some inexplicable reason a decade and a half or so ago? Yeah, that definitely took off. He made an appearance on "Unplugged" and everyone pretended like they gave a shit because everyone else pretended that they gave a shit.
(Perry Como is our grandmother's favorite artist. Even by the standards of "grandparents tell the same stories over and over again" and then again by the standards of "our grandmother, in particular, tells the same stories over and over again" Como comes up a lot. I have trouble taking him seriously.)
I didn't remember the Tony Bennett phenomenon, but sure enough: http://www.nytimes.com/1994/05/01/arts/pop-music-when-he-croons-slackers-listen.html?pagewanted=all
I was around 12 then. The only music I owned was a Mariah Carey cassingle. (I know, I know.) I wish I was as cool as those kids, at that age. Actually, if my (as yet unborn) son were to grow up to be one of those kids, I think I'd just die out of sheer pride.
And no, I can't take Como seriously at all -- listen to the fucking canned horns on that song, and whatever the hell is making that tinkling sound. It's a song that -- much like hipsters -- demands parody. Now, do I mean for that Perry Como forecast to be taken literally? Not really. Do I find it goddamn hilarious and also awesome that a bunch of little rugrat-hipsters are into this music? You bet.
(But, you know, if for some reason Perry Como does take off, I reserve the right to say I called my shot.)
The Sinatra-gangster rap alliance makes more sense, I think.
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