Sunday, February 10, 2013

A Frank intervention

Frank

Oh, Frank… You get me every time.

Rainy day. Coffee in hand. Curled up to Frank on vinyl. There are few more glorious things in this world. Of this I am convinced. I feel like a school girl with a crush. I’m looking forward to a slow paced, delicious rainy day. Through my lovestruck haze I can’t help but wonder, what the freak happened to music? In my long morning commutes I am less bothered by the traffic than I am tortured by the latest auto-tuned garbage on the radio. Not that the latest “you can taste my watermelons” or “that magic in your pants, it’s making me blush” aren’t literary genius, but played back to back on the radio I find myself clawing at the windows. Frank, we need you. You are always welcome in the house of Pearl. Thanks for keeping me sane.

With Love,

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2 comments:

  1. Hi Bea,
    A few of us Baby Boomers were talking Friday night (following a night of live music in tribute of Carole King songs at my church), about how the younger generation is discovering records and record players. While I don't have one anymore myself, I think it's a good sign. Yes, there's some sound hiss while the needle is in the grove before the song starts, but there's something earthy and great about the vinyl, about the size of the album cover, the liner notes and printed lyrics... peace,
    John (Rev. John Connor)

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    1. I completely agree! I think we're getting forced in the direction of vinyls out of basic musical need. There are a lot of great bands out there right now, but they don't play them on mainstream radio? Most of the stuff on the radio lacks depth or soul. Sam and I were laughing over the weekend listening to records. I bought him some Bob Seger to convert him over. He asked me how to pause it or fast forward. We just started laughing. We had no idea :)

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