ghostporn on Friday Night Mike’s. Thanks for having us!’
I was introduced to Serge Gainsbourg via Blonde Redhead, who do a version of “La Chanson de Slogan” on Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons. One of my aunts gave me a little CD booklet of things she’d burned to me for Christmas when I was maybe 13. Blonde Redhead, Le Tigre, Soft Cell, and Stereototal. Blonde Redhead were the first band I remember listening to and thinking, ‘This music feels too mature for me, too melancholy, but I’m going to keep listening to it until I like it.’ Coming off an intense Ramones, Buzzcocks, Clash, and Dead Kennedys kick, Blonde Redhead’s sophistication repelled me, but, as anyone who understands my weird little Pisces brain knows, I almost always come around to loving what I once hated.
I only got into Bob Dylan a few years ago. My dad hates, for no rational reason, almost all music made in New York, e.g. Lou and the Velvets, Sonic Youth, and Bob Dylan. Listening to the Velvet Undergound was an act of rebellion in our house, as was warming up to Dylan. My only exposure to his music had been through my step-dad who owned Slow Train Coming, Dylan’s post-Born-Again record. I came to him on my own through “Visions of Johanna,” which Kenny had put on while we were working together at the record store one rainy night. Both of us were in recovery from break-ups, and we listened to the song maybe three times in a row. After that I discovered Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, and the Basement Tapes. Desire-era Dylan is one I haven’t explored much, but I heard “Isis” for the first time this week.
I used to go out with a guy who lived in LA when I was still living in San Luis Obispo, and I’d drive down to see him at least once a month. I was still seeing him for a little while when I started working at the record store and I remember asking my co-worker, Malik, for good driving music. He recommended Pink Flag and Marquee Moon. Wire and Television remind me of those solo drives to and from LA, blaring my tunes, smoking a million cigarettes, so free.
This weekend I showed Kenny “In Every Dream Home a Heartache.” After he heard it, he said he thinks ghostporn has a Roxy Music vibe, and it’s no big secret that I love dramatic, emotional voices singing about dark, intense things.
Tonight we checked out a new Persian restaurant in Los Feliz and I swear to g they were playing some Julee Cruise-type instrumentals in there. Great ambiance. Happy Blood Moon, everyone.
Yesterday I told my boss I had to climb a ladder to get up to a client’s office, but it was actually a staircase, because I forgot that not everyone knows that I describe my experiences in terms of how it felt and not how it was.