It turns out that the Cold Cold Hearts who appeared at the Beachland on Sat. night were not the Cold Cold Hearts of the dear-to-my-soul, 2/3 Bratmobile variety. I was all like, "Dudes, get yr own band name!" until I dug up their connection to a band involved w/ what is either an adorable local Cle-land queercore collective or a big tease. And anyone even marginally involved in Q to the Core merits only my heartfelt hugs n' kisses. For serious--if I ever ran into Stephen Trask I would turn six kinds of swoony. Not to mention...*starry-eyed sigh*
To celebrate the return of the hearing in my left ear to almost-normal, I listened to Loveless sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, 2 ft. away from my cracked-out stereo w/ the broken tape deck hinge. If you're an MBV fan/musicologist/cultural theorista you should check out Daphne Carr's transcription of Only Shallow, it's totes right on. It also uses the phrase "effete songsmiths" in ref. to B. Corgan, thereby winning my vote for Best Music Writing of Possibly Ever.
Finally, maybe I just live in a DIY ghetto, but everyone I know and their mom still makes mix tapes, so I'm not sure all the hand-wringing is in order just yet.
Pop culture treasure, high culture trash.
Monday, June 06, 2005
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