Ever fall into one of those moods where absolutely nothing interests you? When you're not quite sure what you're doing awake? And I don't mean in an "at this hour" sort of way but yeah it is late. For some reason those have been striking me lately for like an hour or so at a time and my mind is utterly useless for the duration.
This is going to sound like a complete fucking cop-out but that's what I've felt like the last few times I've sat down with the intent to blog.
My travel in the blogodrome has been less than consistant of late and I just wanted to put it out there that if there are people who are wondering why I haven't commented it's because... well I don't know. I'm in a weird sort of a state. Well I guess being me is a weird sort of a state but you know what I mean.
Steve Irwin died today. To be honest I never gave half a shit about him while he was alive. I thought he was annoying and I hated hearing so many goddamned halfass attempts to imitate him. And yet it was sad to hear that he was gone. He was a man who made his living poking a hornets nest. He was going to be stung eventually. But that doesn't mean anyone was ready for it. Stingray barb got him through the chest. There are worse ways to go, but I'd certainly pass on that one.
Got a hold of the latest Bob Dylan album. For some reason I loved it when the lyrics were in front of me but wasn't as crazy about it afterwards without them. The thing is, it's not fair to compare this to a younger Bob Dylan, who could pour his entire being into the microphone and his guitar for 6 minutes at a time. It's a more resigned Dylan. The album is called Modern Times, and seems to be about how he's dealing with them. Having listened to his previous two albums I'd say that he's been making better use of the changes in his voice as he ages. With the exception of a couple of bluesy tracks the songs are all mellow and somber. As for the lyrics, this man is still Bob Dylan, though to note I haven't noticed any of his "holy shit what the fuck" turns of phrase like "the sun ain't yellow, it's chicken," or "money doesn't talk it swears." That having been said the album is extremely poetic, and each song on it is worth examination. In particular, "Working Man's Blues #2" brought a tear to my eye, and "Ain't Talkin'" is likely the spookiest thing he ever wrote; perhaps an homage to Johnny Cash. Modern Times is absolutely effective I believe at communicating what one would think to be the current state of mind of American history's greatest songwriter. And even if it didn't have a single song worthy of my regular playlist it would be worthwhile just as a means of checking up on him. Dylan was an important part of my upbringing; his music has for me and many others I can be assured been riveting and thought-provoking and evokative since first I was introduced to it. I have no doubt that his influence can be found in everything I've written, poetic or otherwise. So I'll continue to listen even when it becomes akin to a visit to a senile old relative. But that's not what this is. It may not become an essential part of his legend, but it speaks to me in a way unique from the rest of his work. It comes with my full reccomendation, with the only qualification being that one shouldn't go into it expecting another Highway 61 Revisited or Blonde on Blonde. It's probably his best album since Desire, though. Play this one at night, with the lights out.