Saw one hellacious set by Broken Social Scene on Friday. Crazy loud (who plays trumpets into microphones?). I tend to think of their songs as turning into chaotic sonic goo the further they go, but Durty thinks it goes the other way, from organic soup into a cohesive bang. You're deaf either way, but it's still great to listen to. I always think of BSS as perfect driving music for a sunny autumn afternoon. It has that dreamy, hammocky feel to it.
Ditched my civic duties of candy-distribution to minors by holing up in a bookstore and reading through Gabriel Garcia Marquez's latest, Memories of My Melancholy Whores. And the first line is:"The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin."
Priceless. Fortunately, he doesn't do, and finds himself re-living, and re-loving life, at the age of 90. It's good stuff, and got me to check out Of Love and Other Demons from the library.
