Of Illness and Ear Worms

It seems the upshot of our first indoor concert since October 2019 was that L. and I both got sick. She tested positive for Covid (but is doing fine), while I somehow have not tested positive, though all the symptoms over the last few days seem like Covid. I have been congested and pretty much lost my ability to taste or smell for about three days. Thankfully, the taste/smell combo seems to be returning today. The congestion isn't as bad, but is now replaced with a nasty, periodic cough.

This will not stop us from seeing Sloan at Saint Andrew's Hall in June, though I think I will mask up through the entire show. Perhaps our risk of Covid will be less in a crowd of good-natured Canadians as opposed to wild animal DBT fans? I have no idea.

When I wasn't feeling cruddy this weekend, I was watching the NCAA basketball tournament and listening to music. For awhile on Saturday, I got to do what I'd do in my younger bachelor days and mute the sound on the TV with music playing on the stereo. I had the Go-Go's Beauty and the Beat playing first--I recently found a pristine vinyl copy and now own this album for the very first time. It's always a relief to hear music that you liked as a kid that still holds up years later as an adult. It's not just the hits "Our Lips Are Sealed" and "We Got the Beat" that still kill, but album tracks like "This Town" and "Can't Stop the World" that are excellent. 

Recently, I found a used copy of the 2009 reissue of The Beatles' Rubber Soul CD for a reasonable price. When those 2009 reissues were released (click on "2009" in this blog in which I blab about them), the only ones on my list of "must-buys" were Sgt. Pepper and Abbey Road. For whatever reason, Revolver and Rubber Soul didn't make the cut. I can only assume I was trying to be economical. I also resent record companies tempting consumers (i,e., me) to buy albums they already own. Of course, I frequently cave in. I happily report that the 2009 Rubber Soul sounds amazing--at least, I think it sounds amazing. Is my brain just trying to convince me that of course it HAS to sound better than the 1987 CD release? I suppose I will have to do a side-by-side comparison to reach a final conclusion.

Up next was Fugazi's album End Hits (1998), which despite its confusing title is not a hits compilation. Fugazi didn't have "hits" anyway. I was never into Fugazi in their lifetime as a band--something about them seemed too serious and humorless--but in the last few years I have come to appreciate their musicianship. I'm still not a big fan of their vocals. I suppose I prefer Guy Picciotto's comparatively more pleasant-sounding voice over Ian MacKaye's. With Fugazi, pleasant vocals aren't the point. It's intense music that is decidedly not made to be played at a cocktail party. It's challenging, often confrontational, but also sometimes experimental and even (gulp) playful.

The final album on the docket was Sloan's Twice Removed. Why oh why did it take me so long to discover this album? Why was my fandom of Sloan such a slow burn? They make music that hits my sweet spot: power pop perfection and intelligent songwriting. Twice Removed could be a Canadian version of Blur's Parklife, which was released right around the same time. The album opener "Pen Pals" makes me chuckle, with its lyrics of broken English likely taken directly from fan letters written to the band. On top of that, the song is ear candy.

So that was my Saturday of music listening.