Here's a promo for Kate Bush's new album, 50 WORDS FOR SNOW, due out Nov. 21. It's a quirky indulgence seeming to chronicle historian's quest (thirst) for prehistoric man. Or it may be referencing Truffaut's "The Wild Child", a French film loosely based on an 18th Century documented case of a child discovered living independently in the woods.
Found myself unexpectedly at The Sportsman's Tavern on Saturday afternoon watching local musician and ensemble Leroy Townes perform two sets of smart country rock. Townes has a strong vocal range with a commanding sound and his ensemble is a tight jam banging group of local musicians, with special mention to the perfectly nimble slide guitarist, whose name I can't find. Exceptional original lyrical compositions balanced nicely in my beer sipping brain. The passing of my father 12 years ago came to mind. He would have digged this band. Special mention to good friend Al who introduced me to Townes as a "writer". I did a double-take. I could have looked around the room asking, "where's a writer?". His wife once introduced me to someone as an "actor". At least they come up with creative excuses for my poor existance. God luv 'em.How 'bout this fine October weather? I'm loving the Bills 4 and 1 season but although my faith for a Super Bowl win isn't diminished I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. They are playing exceptionally but are only capitalizing on their opponents' weakness. They need to be more aggressive to make it all the way to 2012. Even more so, I'm addicted to the MLB playoffs, as I fine baseball, at it's best, can be even more exciting and dramatic than football. I'm predicting Texas and St. Louis will be the World Series contenders. Given my record for predictions, it will probably be Detroit and Millualkee. And I'm toying with cracking The Ginter Code.
Did the door at Subversive Theatre's production of THE PESECUTION AND ASSASINATION OF JEAN PAUL MARAT AS PERFORMED BY THE INMATES OF CHARENTON UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE MARQUIS de SADE. A brilliant playful and disturbing production based on a true incident that burrows through theatre's fourth wall and makes you feel you are certainly sitting, maybe rightfully so, in the center of an insane asylum, either rounding up crazies or joining the psychotic conga line. Chris Standart takes the stage of the lunatic asylum as de Sade, a finely balanced blend of lunacy and lucidity.And now I have to go to work and fight for my right to party.
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