living in vancouver sans gloves or thermal socks does not for warm bones make. my extremities are troubled. they don’t seem to hold blood. i need more flow to my fingers and toes; the sad little digits take ages to thaw out. in other words, i’m accepting donations. especially of the fiscal sort (at least i’ve my beloved long johns…and band mates).
anyway, as i’m one to obsess–especially over pretty, cute and lovely things–so there’s sharon van etten’s “don’t do it” (don’t worry, i just found out about her too), the new beach house holiday song “i do not care for the winter sun,” and the smoky nuances of mazzy star’s “flowers in december.” things ethereal (and pretty and cute and lovely). then there’s the more masculine, yet no less cozy my bloody valentine (their more subdued moments), slowdive, ride, sigur ros, low, red house painters and, of course, GLOW.* just grab yer coffee mug, gaze at yer shoes and dig those snow-swept fireside sounds! grab the sharon von etten track below.
Don’t Do It – Sharon Von Etten
* note i did not intend for this to read like a hipster’s encyclopedia. i do not believe in the gospel of “hipster music,” like, say “bird is the word” (wink); i have faith in good music. and i’m trying to draw you kids into the orbit of my head space.
do you know what big star playing to the backdrop of falling snow feels like? or motion sickness from a rainy back seat blasting the band, or smoke and colorful christmas lights obscured by steamed over sliding windows to porches while the replacements rip yer headphones wide open, or brewing coffee to crowded house’s “don’t dream it’s over”? or strolling amidst the pines cranking new ones out of the baby guitar, or sweating in hot yoga to the sound of the teacher’s incessant life-coaching and melodramatic (not so subtle) crooning, or sleeping (trying) on a deflated air mattress in a frigid room amidst winston’s yapping with no music? i wish you did. that’s vancouver to me.
so things have moved faster than i’d imagined up here in british columbia. with nearly twenty spanking new and nearly finished tunes under our stretched belts (too many of marsha’s delicious cookies…), we assume familiar postures on the couch feeling right good and proud. i guess there’s almost always a movie playing. and a bottle opened wide. not to suggest loafing is all we hungry lads do. at any given moment there’s at least one of us obsessing over something.
kisses,
rheese
