I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.
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Thursday, June 17
Listened to Brad Mehldau's latest LP "Highway Rider" for about the 25th time yesterday. The last time an album hurt me to the core this much was when I discovered the (heavily blogged about here) Burt Bacharach/Elvis Costello collaborative mastery of "Painted From Memory" in 2004. Intense.
It's rare to find art where the pain it evokes triggers a rarely-tapped-into reminder that struggle is imminent, plus the acknowledgment that this reminder is also one that we're alive.
THAT'S SOME DEEP SHIT RIGHT THERE, YO.
I'm like an episode of "Friends." I can't ever conclude on a heavy note without making a shitty joke at the end.