The Quick and the Dead

To those of you considering gifting me: please don’t. My profligacy adapted to my income and I’m broke. If you do, don’t buy me opera. It's fucking expensive and getting something I already have is likely because of the way the repertory works. If you buy music, buy somebody who gets royalties and who you reckon I’d like. But not these, which in my fiscal discipline I ordered yesterday:

Kanye West, Late Registration: Ever since Mr. S played Gold-digger for me, I’ve been wondering if I should buy the whole album on the off-chance the other tracks might be even a fraction as good. How can he be saying ‘Get down girl, go head, get down’ with that much resignation and still make me want to dance? Then on Saturday night when Lady’s gingerbread was in full wheresmyface flight, Mr. S played Diamonds in Sierra Leone. It was as good. Maybe better. So there we are.

Astrud Gilberto’s Finest Hour: I’ve had a soft spot for Astrud Gilberto ever since hearing Thievery Corporation’s remix of ‘Who Needs Forever?’ Such a pretty voice, and so APED. Aped by a generation of ‘intelligent’ folk-renaissance singers who were supposed to sound stripped down and just sounded flat. But calling Astrud Gilberto flat is as apropos as calling Stolichnaya colourless. This weekend someone told me she was alive so I decided it was time to stop 'sharing'.

K-Os, Joyful Rebellion: My brother has hot friends, or at least they were hot during my formative years and will therefore be Forever Hot. Just like Magnum PI. Last time I was in my hometown, one of my brother’s hot friends played K-Os for me – Man I Used to Be – saying “I know you’re musical so I know you’ll like this”. He was right. I like boys who know I’ll like things and don’t get all dumb because of my opera hang-up. Especially when I really like the things they know I’ll like. And I fucking liked that an awful lot.

Here are some people who aren’t dead whose things I thought of buying this morning and didn’t because of my awesome fiscal discipline:

Blossom Dearie
The Meters
Nick Cave (pre-Murder Ballads)
Al Green

And even though he’s dead, I guess Serge Gainsbourg things should be bought. I can imagine he’d have a plethora of children out there who need the money from the royalties. Fuck, only in France could that man have got the action he did. Brigitte Bardot, for heaven’s sake! Fucking France.

Speaking of gifting and Brigitte Bardot . . . you may want to think twice before giving any of your younger relatives a certain iconic plastic doll. And check out what FEB suggests he's sending me.