Hey guys — my period of travel-induced delinquency at The Agenda has ended. Please come!
Unfortunately for you, I will still write lengthy posts at The American Scene on the meaning of life. I’ve been feeling pretty excited about life lately. I had an excellent and long trip, and, having returned, I’ve been listening to a lot of old favorites, particularly David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. Also, I just discovered that eMusic has an enormous new catalogue of albums; frustratingly, I went ahead and purchased a number of them via other more expensive means, but it’s terrific news regardless. Listening this morning to what had been long-lost mid- to late-1990s hip-hop records. There’s something about serial consumption: from 4th grade to 10th grade, I visited my favorite comic book store every weekend to stock up. And from then on, I followed record labels, particularly long-deceased Rawkus. Naturally, I’m pretty pleased by the critical claim for The Ecstatic, which is richly deserved.
I think I need a blog that will collate different things that I write. Perhaps I’d call it “reihansalam.com,” or “reihansalam.net.” But to what end? I guess to keep track of stuff. It sounds like a lot of work honestly. I’d love to just knock off Wilson Miner’s really impressive, cleanly-designed personal site. I also love Diana Lind’s Index on Diana Lind, though that’s a complex semantic concept and she’s a little cranky about intellectual property theft. (Whereas I paid my way through gun-fighting school by manufacturing fake Chloe handbags out of kitten hide and my own spittle. That’s not true. I’d never hurt a kitten.)
Songs that sound exactly like songs I’d want to make: Mos Def’s “Auditorium,” which has a neat harmonium-infused beat that smacks of 1950-60s Indian popular music. Quite nice. Also: Prince’s “I Would Die 4 You” and Supersystem’s “Eagles Fleeing Eyries.” My inability to carry a tune is a real source of sadness for me. Another thing: I’d want to make songs with lots of handclaps. When I fantasize about performing for an audience — this doesn’t happen daily, but it happens more than weekly — I picture myself making a lot of herky-jerky neck and shoulder movements and engaging in lots of friendly wry banter between songs. Oddly enough, I think I’d prefer being a “Hype Man,” complete with an enormous clock. The downside, of course, is that it is hard to take a man wearing a clock or a top hat or a fake mustache or moon boots seriously, let alone all four at once.