teeny tale: twinkle, twinkle

i had a dream you were a star, he said. i can’t stop thinking about how bright you were: brighter than any star my eye could spy. no you didn’t, really? she asked. who was i? a singer? an actress? tell me, tell me. no silly, not that kind of star, the kind in the sky, he said. well, that’s a little odd isn’t it, you, dreaming of me, as a giant exploding ball of plasma? lovely. where’s your imagination? he asked. did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, you, as a star, could represent a form of connectedness between the many miles that separate us? you know, kind of like the idea that we can both look at the same moon while standing in different places. well yes, & i do just love that thought, she said. well, if you were a star, i could see you every night. & if you were a falling star, you could fall down right beside me. & if we were both stars she said, we could shoot across the sky & meet each other, too. hmm, now i see. & to think i’ve always been wishing on a star when in fact i should be wishing to be one. & before he hung up, he said, but you already are a star, my star, & you always have been. how else do you think I found you?

some songs i didn't know i couldn't live without...until this weekend.

I hadn't been to Record Theatre since college. Sadly, it's one of the only authentic music stores left in my neck of the woods; New World Record shutdown last year. The place has been going since 1976; it's outdated signage hints at it's early inception. But the thing that I'm kicking myself in the ba-hind about is this: Record Theatre is pretty much a straight shot down the road from where I've been living for the past five years. (Seriously, is this what the Internet has done to me? Yikes.) In my defense, I completely forgot about its existence and truly assumed that it was no longer in business, as it was in pretty rough shape when I took my first visit over 10 years ago. But this short sad story has a happy ending: we finally reconnected this weekend.

Walking through the doors of the worn yellow-sided building I instantly recalled fond memories of my trip to Amoeba Records in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco. There were handwritten signs, staff picks, used and new CDs and vinyls,  and a flea-marketesque stash of random books, prints and plastic figurines. After a good hour wondering the same aisles over and over and over again, I finally settled on my purchases: Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" CD (I know, I'm late to the game), The Cars' "O-Candy" (vinyl), and "Everything All The Time" by Band of Horses (vinyl). First up was the Cars' album. I listened to both sides and, despite the fact that my record player is running a hair too fast (she's going in sometime this week for a tune up), I can't even offer a cherry picking of songs: You have to listen to the whole album--it's too good to play favorites. I'm sure after I get a few more rounds in I'll have my favorites, but for now, I suggest--if you haven't--give it a full listen. On top of it all, the "O-Candy" album cover is arguably one of the best album covers of all times, note the image below, and while you're at it, take a listen.



Then Wilco. They're a band I've been meaning to take some time with. I suppose one could say they're a New Year's resolution. And I'm quite happy with the way they've started my 2010. In the Rolling Stones review of the "50 Best Albums of the Decade" their Yankee Hotel Foxtrot album was No. 3. And I can see why. It's my new driving-in-the-car album, and my oh my how fancy I feel with this CD. I. Bought. In. A. Record store. WHAT?! Not that I don't buy my albums, but I've been doing so online and it feels really strange--a good strange--to have a disc that I didn't burn. One that is actually labeled. One that has a case. And one that notes all the songs and even includes lyrics. I like this buying-CDs-in-a-music-store concept. It's been a long time...